Angela here. You all know the long, tortured story of my unrequited love for Renee’s cat and our blog mascot, Roxy. For as long as I’ve known her, she’s only had eyes for maman–and only hisses for me.
I chalked it up to my drooling eagerness and my inexperience around animals. Surely she smelled the fear of rejection emanating from my (sheet-masked and glowing) skin and dismissed me as a useless HOOMAN. Whenever I visited Renee in NY, I kept my distance from Roxy, resigned to being ignored or–if I was lucky–swiped at.
Then Roxy came to live with me for two months while Renee gallivanted in London for work. This post is called A Tale (Tail?) of Two Kitties because there’s the Roxy I thought I knew before and the Roxy I know now. ❤
The first two weeks, she lurked under my bed, venturing out only for kibbles and to use the litter box. Gradually, she came out from under more and more. Always at a cautious distance, but at least she was out.
One early morning, in the hazy half-sleep that follows being awoken at 5:30am by hangry meows, I heard a thud on the bed. With each heavy step, the bed–and I–shivered with antici…pation.
The first paw reached forward tentatively. The next one, a bit surer. And the next one, surer still. Once I felt the hard nudge of her leather-pink nose against my open palm, I knew this was my chance. I reached out for a touch of fur.
THAT, my friends, is how Roxy and I began a new stage of our relationship. Pretty soon, she made herself comfortable in my home–and in my arms every morning for post-kibble cuddles.
Oh how wrong I had been about her! I had pegged her as unchangeably stone-hearted when really she just needed time to grow comfortable and learn to trust me. *I* was the one who had been unchangeable–firm in my resolve that “Roxy doesn’t like people” or “Roxy’s always mean.” Shame on me.
The rest of the summer whizzed by like a dream–a dream where you know you’ll have to wake eventually, but at the moment, it seems so real that you can’t imagine life any other way.
Roxy lounged on paper bags…
But time cares not for these things and marches on without pause. When the summer ended, so did our love affair. The second that Renee walked through my door and locked eyes with Roxy as if no time had passed, I knew the spell was broken.
Maybe Roxy was never under a spell and I was just the hooman servant until maman returned. Whatever her true feelings were, I let myself be fooled and dutifully played the part of Rick to Roxy’s Ilsa, knowing deep down that I was really Victor Laszlo. Here’s looking at you, kid…
P.S. What chance did I ever have anyway? Look at these two: separated at birth!