Disclaimer: Brace yourself for a lot of cat pictures. Either you will succumb to the cuteness, or you will leave quietly. No teasing. I am a girl obsessed.
So we’ve had our Ali for nearly two months now (my goodness, how time flies!), and it’s safe to say that she has completely won over our hearts…and our apartment. I think it’s the New Yorker in her showing through. In case you didn’t know, New Yorkers are obsessed with real estate. Some of the first questions people ask when they meet you are: “Do you live in Manhattan? What neighborhood? Prewar? Elevator or walk-up? How many bedrooms?”
Ali owns her little patch of Manhattan like nobody’s business. She weirdly sticks to the living room only, except for necessary visits to the litter box in our bedroom. We noticed within a week or so of adopting her that she had slowly started to claim things as hers.
First, it was the scratching post.
Then it was her cat bed:
But when she realized that wasn’t nearly as spacious or comfy as the humans’ couch, she claimed that, too:
Then there was the little canvas container I purchased from Bed, Bath & Beyond for the specific purpose of storing our numerous issues of WSJ and Time that were lying about, but Ali knew it was really a cat storage box:
And then, of course, there’s the windowsills and her cat toys and food and water bowls and a piece of discarded cardboard she discovered and likes to sit on. They’re hers, OK? She’ll let you know by sitting on these items, or crowding you out when you approach.
Her most recent claim? The colored pen I’m using to annotate my Lech-brary book this month and an empty American Eagle shopping bag.
Her infatuation with the shopping bag has grown over the past few days. After attacking it until it was suitably dead, she spent some time sitting on it in the middle of the living room floor, watching us eat cereal and other mundane human activities. Now it is her preferred sleeping spot…even though it is right next to her much more comfy, much more cat-friendly bed. Weirdo.
She’s also very good at marking her roughly 400-square foot territory by getting her litter and food everywhere. Also, she has all colors of fur, so she is good at making that evident on everything from a brown couch to blue curtains and white T-shirts. And if you didn’t already know whose apartment it really is, she yowls through the night to remind you.
We should probably hate, or at least resent, her.
But we just can’t. I never knew I could love a little ball of get-all-over-you fur so much. I mean, can you blame me? Just look at that face.