The One Eyed Monster

The One Eyed Monster

One morning as my family and I were walking out of church we saw a large crowd gathered around my friend Alisha’s truck. From a distance, I could hear exclamations like, “Awe, how cute!” We all went to see what all the fuss was about. It turned out that Alisha had brought a litter of kittens to church to find some loving homes. Being the youngest of four children, my siblings picked me to be the advocate. I took my job very seriously, feeling that the future of our family depended on me. I smiled really big and batted my long eyelashes as I politely made my plea. I even added a cute little shoulder shrug at the end for additional affect. My Dad said they would talk about it and proceeded to send my siblings and I to the vehicle. Clearly they didn’t want us interfering with this life altering decision. We anxiously watched and waited as my Dad attempted to convince my Mom it was a good idea. As you may have guessed, my Dad won the argument. Due to her grey complexion, we affectionately named Dusty. The instant we arrived home, the little ball of cuteness transformed into the one eyed monster. One of Dusty’s eyes was always looking for mischief, while the other was looking to see if anyone was watching.

The house had three floors. At night Dusty was banned to the basement. The only thing was we had to find her first. Often she’d pick my bed to hide under. My bed was big enough that my sister and I shared it. Dusty would hide right in the middle where it was next to impossible to get to her. Eventually, we learned to use cat treats.

We never had to wonder what Dusty did while we were at school and work because she left verifiable evidence. This is how I envision a typical day for Dusty. Everyone would be out of the house from about eight o’clock in the morning to four o’clock in the afternoon. Starting at about seven forty-five I see Dusty with a mischievous look in her eye, plotting her next adventure. At about five after eight she would go the kitchen and look for crumbs to eat from our breakfast. She wouldn’t give up until she had searched everywhere. Her next stop would be the bird watching out the dining room window. She would play a game of push pull with the sheer curtain in an effort to get to the birds, leaving large tears behind. Then she’d move to the new phone and decide that the chord was a chew toy. After that she’d realize that she was still hungry and would proceed to eat the leaves of the plants in the bay window. Then she would have a lovely nap in the chair beside the plants, basking in the sunlight. Dusty would wake up and realize she’s hungry again, so would go snack on some cat food in the basement. She’d get distracted by the computer chord and chew that as well. When I arrived home around four o’clock Dusty would be so excited to see me that she’d use my Dad’s favourite chair as a scratching post.

In the evenings my sister would decide Dusty made a great doll. How she convinced a jumpy cat to stay still for so long is beyond my comprehension. My sister would dress Dusty in doll clothes, put her in a baby carriage, and take pictures. She must have been some kind of cat whisperer.

In the end, Dusty's time as a member of our family was short lived, but very memorable.