Little Friend

I don't really like our new cat, Freya. She's a lot like our old cat, Juno, who died about a year ago in December. Juno hated me, was afraid of me, and ran from me whenever she saw me. The older she got, the more pronounced it became. She was like that racist uncle you had who was mostly fine until their mind started to go and those private thoughts started coming out all the time instead very infrequently. She had no reason to hate or fear me, but she did nonetheless.

The new cat is the same thing. From the day we got her, she was super skittish and nervous. She spent her first day at our house hiding under our bed and never coming out for anything. My daughter spent an exorbitant amount of time coaxing her out and gaining her confidence...but she's a kid that has little responsibilities, so she could. I did not, and the cat has never taken to me. It's not just because of that, though, because she likes my wife, who is also busy and doesn't waste tons of time soothing a skittish cat.

My kids and my wife say that it's probably because I'm louder than everybody else in the house, so she's just nervous of being around me. I don't know. I tried to take a picture of her for this blog post, this was the best I could get:

She was looking at me as I came up with my phone, and it would have been a good picture, but by the time I had the photo app open and the shot set, she was running away from me. After all, I was near her...that's extreme danger, right?

Anyway, despite being a little turd that treats me like I'm a monster despite never giving her a reason, she can do funny and cute things sometimes. That's why I'm writing this post. This was a super long-winded lead in to tell you about her little friend.

This is a coonskin cap that my son wanted to buy the last time we went to the Alamo. he should have saved his money, because, of course, he never uses it. He had it in his closet for more than a year, but then recently, we found it downstairs. We made Little take it back up and put it away, but the next thing you know, it was out and down again.

Turns out, Freya really likes it. She was getting into his closet and pulling it out, carrying it around in her mouth and taking it with her wherever she wanted to go. She would lay with it in corner of the room or on the window seat. My daughters even said they once caught her grooming the thing, licking its fur presumably to clean it off like it would do for itself or like some cats do to each other when they are particularly well bonded.

I guess the Davy Crockett hat is her little friend. It makes me shrug. She wouldn't have to do that if she wasn't so intent on hiding under the couch whenever I'm around. I'd be her friend, but I guess the hat is quieter. It rough to be a rambunctious male in today's society. It's just not built to accommodate us any longer. Sit still and be quiet, or you aren't welcome. Even our pets have taken that to heart.