Miss Maggie

Miss Maggie

The love affair began with my best silk blouse being ruined.

I had come to the shelter after work. As I passed a cage, a paw shot out from between the bars and snagged my sleeve. Carefully, the sharp claws were removed, but the damage was already done.

The attendant laughed. “Look how darling, she picked you.”

Thinking about what I had paid for the blouse, I was not laughing. I frowned at the gray and black tabby. Her big amber eyes stared back saying, “please.” She posed; her tail curled fetchingly around her tiny furry body. “See how cute I am?”

Evidently wanting the bratty cat to be adopted, the shelter employee urged me, “See her looking at you so adorable? She wants you to take her home.”

My heart had been set on finding a fluffy yellow-gold striped cat like my first cat crush, Timothy Tiger Miller. But tired and wanting to go home myself, I said, “Okay, I’ll take her.”

When the fee was paid and the carrier lifted onto the seat, the feline sales pitch was no longer needed, so she fell asleep.

My husband, Chris, and I were prepared for our new baby’s arrival, a comfy cat crib, kitty food, and play toys.

She awoke when I struggled to get her out of the car. A plaintive meow made me maternal.

“It’s okay Sweetie, don’t be scared, this is your new home.”

I brought her into the living room where Chris lounged in his recliner.

“I thought you were getting a yellow one,” he said, as he peered at the captive.

“No, this one chose me by ripping my blouse.”

But as soon as I let her out, it was apparent she had not chosen me at all. She climbed the Mount Everest of the recliner and plopped herself in Chris’ lap. Perhaps by some animal instinct she knew there was a man at home just waiting for her.

“I think she likes me,” he said. He petted her. She arched her back and began a soft rumble of contentment.

“I’ll call her Maggie after my grandmother,” he decided without consulting me.

Since Chris adored his Grandmother, this name bonded the two from the get-go.

In the weeks to come, I had anticipated a pitter patter of cat’s feet when I came home, but no, I was ignored. She was out casing the neighborhood or taking a nap. She was waiting for Mr. Right, the love of her life, to roar into the driveway in his pick-up. She followed his every step when he did arrive.

If Chris and I cuddled on the couch while watching a movie, Maggie would sit on the top of the sofa, sulk, and glare at me. Occasionally, she would even take a swipe at my hair.

She did allow me to serve as her maid, let her out, in, and keep the food and water bowl filled.

Chris bought her a rhinestone collar with a heart tag and more toys to play with. He would come in the door and say, “Where’s my sweetheart?” And to me he would say, “What’s for dinner?”

Was I feeling jealous? Yes. Did I find a solution for my feelings? Yes.

The same attendant greeted me at the Humane Society. I came on a weekend and was wearing sweats lest some cat decided to use me as a scratching post.

“How’s your kitty working out?” she said.

“Well, great for my husband. Maggie has decided he is her personal pet.”

She touched her heart with her hand. “Oh, I’m so glad,” she said.

“Do you have any striped, yellow males available?”

“Yes, he’s not a kitten, but he’s real sweet.”

“I’d like to see him.”

When I came to the door of his cage, he came forward and regarded me seriously.

“Would you like to hold him?”

He snuggled up against me, upholstering my chest in cat hair. I brushed my face against his head.

“I want him.”

When we got home, Maggie looked miffed. “Who is this?”

“I am going to name him, Tam,” I said. “It just came to me as I was driving home.”

Soon, when we watched a movie, we melded into a family, Maggie on Chris’s lap and Tam on mine.

The two cats became great friends. They had each other to play and sleep with while we were at work. The extreme obsession of Maggie with Chris, and Chris with Maggie mellowed into something less intense. My jealousy faded. Maggie began asking me to pet her, butting me with her head. She rubbed around my legs even after she was fed.

I have never bought an expensive silk blouse again and probably never will, but our memories of these two beloved cats will stay with us forever.