Miss D Is Keeping That Cat Alive.

He puked small, rather targeted and vengeful deposits around the living room carpet, and I opened $2.00 of cat food only to watch him eat, oh, .35 of it. And I was sure he was at the end of the road, and I was crazy to keep him alive and should just Call The Vet.

And then my daughter brought Miss D.

Delaney adores the cat, and the cat, while not openly adoring her, tolerates her more than anyone else. It's a riot to watch Miss D when she catches sight of her cat - she squeals "Kee-ee!" and takes off crawling at high speed, hands and knees slapping the floor, cooing and squealing. She loves this cat. She loves his voice - the voice that is like fingernails on a blackboard to her mother and me makes her light up with joy! And Higgins appears to almost like her too, and tolerates her poking at his face with patience, if not actual fondness.

So when I scrubbed the latest cat barf stains almost out of the very hard to clean and much hated carpet (they almost come out, but not quite, so the awful cream colored carpet is now not so creamy) I thought about this. I am maidservant to a cat that doesn't like anything I feed him and has never been very fond of me. But he makes my granddaughter ridiculously happy, and also is obviously alert and fully engaged while annoying the hell out of me. If he would just be mean and unfriendly to the child who adores him, or at least look miserable more regularly, his fate would be easier to determine, but nooo, he's a total sweetie to her, and she calls him "KEE-ee!" in a high, sing-song coo that is clearly "Kitty" in her head. Dammit, Grandma will continue to wait on the old fart while we continue to resent each other.

P.S.: He likes this week's menu so far. He ate more than half of his dinner tonight and isn't screaming at me.

P.P.S.: Nevermind. Himself is Perturbed about the service again.