The Cats In The Cradle And The Silver Spoon
When PK was little, and I mean actually little as opposed to her current medium size that some people still refer to as little, she really wanted a cat. It wasn’t very difficult for me to say no to her for two reasons. A) I’m horribly allergic to cats and B) I can’t stand the nasty little creatures. As terrible as that may sound it’s really more of a survival technique. For some unknown reason cats seem to love me and the more I try to shoo them away, in the interest of continuing to breath of course, the more the want to rub their fuzzy shedding bodies against me. It’s a conspiracy.
I wasn’t always like this. Once when I was little, by which I mean medium sized as all times when I was smaller than my current size are when I was little, we had a cat. Or rather, a cat had us. He showed up one day and seemed content to just hang about our house so we named him Smokey and my mom started buying him food. He was an outdoor cat due to the family’s collective feline allergies and that suited him just fine. When it was cold he would take refuge in the breezeway and catch mice in the garage. When it was warm he would prowl the neighborhood. And then he didn’t come back. I was walking to school one morning and saw a dead cat in the middle of the road. Sort of a smokey gray cat. Thus ended my only pleasant relationship with a cat.
So PK requested a cat, I flatly denied the request, she pouted a bit and then business as usual resumed. Until Kida showed up. In the absence of a real animal to love and torment PK invented one and since it was about the time that she got the movie Atlantis on video she named the invisible one Kida. PK asked if it was okay for her to keep Kida and thinking that a non-entity couldn’t be too much trouble to take care of I acquiesced.
Kida went with PK wherever she went and did whatever PK did. At least everything that was naughty. Kida was forever getting into trouble. Particularly at the grocery store. Every time I turned around PK was disappearing around corners yelling at her cat to stay by mommy. I would go tearing off after PK and tell her to just let the cat go but that never worked. Eventually I started yelling at Kida myself which PK assured me worked very well. Unfortunately I looked a bit bonkers doing it.
Other strays joined Kida occasionally, once we had 3 dogs stay with us for awhile, but all of them eventually disappeared. Kida stuck, at least for a time. Then when PK was five her father bought a dog and Kida whimsically poofed out of existence.
A few months ago SB made a new friend. A little kitty who follows her around and does everything she does, especially the naughty things (which with SB are so much greater and more varied than the naughty things PK did). At first she was referred to as the kitty but one day kitty turned into Kida. PK swears she had nothing to do with it and after the argument the girls had today in the car I’m beginning to believe her.
PK spent the weekend with her dad and in her absence Kida behaved abominably. She was crawling out windows and running down aisles at the stores. She just wouldn’t stay out of anything. She finally began to calm when we picked PK up. In fact, she curled up with PK on the back seat to take a nap. This obviously caused SB to become incensed and she started screaming about PK stealing her cat. Then PK angrily yelled that Kida was hers first and SB had been the one doing the stealing but SB was brooking no arguments and wanted her kitty back. I hollered, “Kida, go sit on SB’s lap and stop causing this commotion!”
Kida did as she was told but soon SB was complaining that she had gone off to sit with PK again. When I asked PK why she kept taking Kida she insisted it wasn’t her fault. Apparently Kida wanted to snuggle with Kida. Yes, two Kidas. PK’s cat decided to whimsically reinvent herself just to give me a headache.
Now I, the woman who hates cats, have two. Two cats both named Kida who have a special knack for repeating all the naughty behaviors of my two daughters. And I yell at them, the daughters and the cats. I think maybe I just need to get a dog. I’ll name him Milo.
