Garfield

The move is over, the unpacking and setting up is just about complete, and we are settling in nicely to our new home. As with any new thing in life there are situations that arise that will catch you off guard and make you cock your head in bewilderment. My dilemma is a cat that has the talent of the likes of David Copperfield. He or she, I have not checked, started coming around from the day we moved in and a few crucial mistakes have been made along the way. Fabi likes to feed wild cats so there is one biggie. Fabi also likes to feel like she has accomplished some humanitarian feat by letting it in the house for "just a minute" so it can warm its paws and then back out it goes. To sum up the results of these dastardly deeds, I will tell you the food is more plentiful and the visits inside are longer.

With that being said, I will give you insight as to what it means to live a day in my house.

As the alarm clock blares at me at 7:00am I slowly flutter my eyelids and squint at the morning light as it glares off the freshly fallen snow. With a tap of the snooze bar and a few extra winks of sleep, eventually I awake from the bed and start my day with the speed of a slug in the mud. The dog follows me downstairs and off he goes to make his morning pee and I go to do the same.

As I pass the front door I hear a vibrant "meow" from the other side and decide to open the door so he will stop. I am not surprised at this point because this has been getting progressively worse over the last few weeks. I take a shower and head back upstairs to get dressed and kiss the wife goodbye before I go to work. While coming around from the kitchen, I see an orange cat trying to open my front door with his behemoth paws. I guess now will be a good time to tell you that this cat must weigh 50 pounds and is built like a tank.

7:40am and I am out the door to another day at the job when I am cornered by this massive outdoor feline companion who has has since made his home on my front porch. I pet it a few times, let it rub against my leg, and then run to the car to get in before he jumps in with me.

4:oopm and as I pull in the driveway, a gigantic orange fur ball is waddling down the walkway to come greet me at the car. I step out exhausted from the day of working and almost don't mind the awkward affection of a cat that is trying to butter me up so we let him stay in our house. He follows me to door and as I make all of the goalie like attempts to keep him out, he slithers into a small opening I have left and the saga continues. This shenanigans continues for a few hours, in and out, until finally we succumb to the hassle of keeping him out and let him sit for a while.

After the cat has worn out his welcome, I attempt to pick him up to take him out. The combative episode of resistance begins and with no warning there are lunges with and open mouth, a swat and a hiss in such succession it seems almost like he was planning this attack since I let him in. So after I wait for him to let me pick him up, I put him back outside and close the door.

I wipe my forehead and make a phew sound as I conclude another day in this storybook and begin to mentally prepare for the days of this treachery that lie ahead. My wife knows that it is only a matter of time until this cat, "Nelson", makes his way to being a member of the family and living inside permanently.

Flight calling Ny...... "LXXA"