The Scene staff
Question: Who constantly naps throughout the day, eats food he never pays for and occasionally poops in my shower?
Answer: My roommate.
No, I don’t share an apartment with the ghost of Chris Farley. I’m talking about my 18-pound cat, Chauncey, and I have a confession to make — I love the big goof.
Honestly, I never pictured myself as much of a cat guy. Sure, we had a few felines growing up around the house, but on a personality scale, they were about a notch above my mom’s Precious Moments collection.
There’s always been a running joke at my dad’s house about the revolving door of cats he’s had over the years. Maybe he thought we wouldn’t know the difference, but for a while, I swear it seemed like every weekend he had a different cat.
Eventually, Dad gave up trying to name them and turned over the duty to us kids. Heat Vision and Butthead were particularly beloved members of the Tolliver household. Collectively, they became known as THE cat.
Then I met Chauncey.
A wise man once said, “You can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your family.” Truth be told, I was looking for neither when I first roamed the rows of kennels at the animal adoption agency.
I was living alone at the time, having just moved into a new apartment and figuring I’d get some kind of pet to keep me company. Since my self-absorption rivals only my feelings of self-importance, a cat seemed like a natural fit.
Then all of the sudden, I spotted him, second from the end. A bit too old to be a kitten, he looked at me with those scornful tabby eyes.
I scooped him up from his cold, stainless steel cage. He bit my hand. It was love at first sight.
It wasn’t all wine and roses with Chauncey, however. For those first few contentious months, we pretty much kept to our own little corners of the apartment, almost like boxers sizing each other up before a big fight.
In fact, it seemed like early on, our only interactions came during QUIET time, and let’s just say our views on the subject weren’t exactly homogenized.
It’s been said that cats rest an average of 16 to 20 hours a day. You know, it would have been nice if at least a few of those hours overlapped with my own attempts to sleep.
Seriously, what can one cat be doing to make so much noise in the middle of the night? Oh, and let’s not forget his favorite nocturnal game: catapulting off the futon onto my chest, where he remained completely motionless for minutes on end before biting my nose and running away.
Then one night, everything changed.
As I retell the story, I’m inclined to depict myself in some sort of emotionally traumatized state as I lay paralyzed on the couch in need of consultation, but in reality, I probably just fell asleep watching Seinfeld again.
At any rate, I woke up to a familiar “meow” sound, but this time it wasn’t because the cat was about to pounce on me. Without explanation, he simply climbed up under my arm, draped his paw over my chest and gently laid his head down to sleep next to mine.
In the morning, we awoke and were inseparable from then on.
Chauncey turns 10 this October, and already it’s shaping up to be a pretty big year. We recently moved into a new apartment, along with my lovely wife Stephanie, who likes to jokingly refer to herself as his step-mom.
Living in a new place is always an adjustment, but for cats it can be downright traumatizing.
The other day I received a call from Steph, who was more then a little frantic after being unable to locate Chauncey anywhere in the apartment. For more than an hour, she turned the place upside down, even going so far as to put lost cat signs on the neighbor’s doors.
As it turns out, the cat was hiding in the living room the whole time, perhaps in his own little way administering a bit of payback for the recent upheaval.
It was just the kind of contemptibly obnoxious thing that jerk would do, but it’s moments exactly like these that make you realize how much a part of your life a pet can become.
Whether it’s a cat or a dog or a four-toed hedgehog, a pet can give his owner a very rewarding and enriching experience.
True, with ownership comes a fair amount of responsibility, but in my mind it’s a small price to pay for a lifetime of unconditional love.