My Cat

My cat.
This is an ode to my cat:

I have a cat
Without a name
The belly that's large
Is her claim to fame

My cat is odd. I got her when I was just a young gal in college. My parents agreed to let me get a cat since my dear boyfriend was leaving me when we graduated to follow his dream and move to Washington state and fight crime.

Not much time passed and the boyfriend moved back home, married the young gal, and the parents gladly said good-bye to the cat.

We never could decide on a fitting name for the cat.
We tried Dee-Dee (after Mr. D). Didn't stick.
We tried Lily (she was born on Easter). Didn't stick.
We mostly just call her Kitters now. Or, as my husband often calls her "YOUR cat". He's never forgiven her since she pooped in his bean bag - which was ages ago when she was scared in a new house.

I don't really know what to do with my cat. I like her okay, but I wouldn't use the word love. I would feel bad if something happened to her. For a little while. But I know nothing is going to happen to her. Ever. She will outlive me.

It would be easier if she was a better looking cat. Not that I'm a cat-snob. Okay, maybe I am, but she doesn't have good hygiene, and her tail lost all its fluffiness about three years ago. Now its this stringy, sad tail. It doesn't help her case.

So, what to do? I guess what we've been doing co-existing without a deep emotional connection. Like a broken relationship. Maybe we need counseling.