The Thing About Edward

[Before I begin this post, I want to tell you all that my heart is filled with gratitude. I can't thank you all enough for your support and concern after my post about being in chronic pain. It...well, it hasn't been the frat party one might have hoped, and it was difficult for me to talk about because I didn't want to seem self-indulgent. I mean, I have friends battling CANCER and here I sit, whining about my foot. But to hear your witty, wise and in all ways wonderful (and non-scolding) comments...well, I thank you. I OWE you. When things get bad, I go back and REREAD you. God bless you guys.]

And now for something completely different...a post about Edward. Because there are few unpleasant things that Edward cannot make better. (And also because I've had some requests for an Edward update.)

You might not have realized this but Edward is all Cat.

He doesn't think he's a dog, and he would never think that was a good thing, anyway. He doesn't think he's human--he's far superior to the average human. He is a Cat and he clearly thinks that is a simply grand thing to be.

He is contrary and arrogant and mischievous and random. He will NOT do what you want him to do and he will not STOP doing what you DON'T want him to do --as witnessed by this family's numerous Edward sightings ON THE KITCHEN TABLE. (I will not have a cat on the kitchen table, nor the kitchen counters and I have been known to chase cats who ignore these rules with a squirt gun.) I have chased Edward and even bopped him on his perfect nose and still he persists.

But I can't ever get very angry with Edward because, see, I know something about him. (Something more than the fact that it's a miracle that we got him back after his six-week AWOL adventure.)

He LOVES me.

No, seriously. He's a one woman cat and I am that woman. DUDES, I would put that on my resume if I still had one.

To the rest of the world, he is every inch the professional cat. He refuses to come when he's called and if you put your hand out to pet him, he will limbo under it.

But when no one is around or awake to see, Edward is a one cat snugglefest. He likes to sleep right up by my pillow, but he will only stay there as long as I am touching him. And he doesn't just want my hand on him somewhere, he wants to be held like a football. I don't know if you can tell, but my hand is completely wrapped around and under his stomach. He likes that.

He has this enormous purr--think Harley Davidson VROOM VROOM VROOM. It wakes me up but I never mind because I always feel like he's giving me a present.

It's funny --our other cat, Thomas is much more of a cuddler. He will cuddle with ANYONE and he's a very solid sleeper --doesn't move much, lays right on you, is happy to be in the general vicinity of any human. Thomas kind of has a Stuffed Animal Complex --as in, he'd like to be one and then there would never be a reason to stop cuddling/napping.

Isn't it interesting that as much as I love Thomas, I love Edward MORE? Because he's selective. (Which dynamic, incidentally, explains a lot about the failed romantic endeavors of my youth. Sometimes that selective frog is really a wart-inducing, bug-eating, weak-bladdered freaking amphibian who merely APPEARS to be selective because his brain is the size of a pencil eraser.) (Not that I'm still bitter or anything.)

But anyway, the thing about Edward is that he's SUCH a professional that it's hard for him to just give in to the love, except under cover of darkness when he makes a beeline for my pillow and settles in. Right now, though, he and I are the only ones downstairs and he CLEARLY wants to be petted but he can't just come curl up next to me. We have to go through this elaborate courting ritual.

So, first, he presents the tail.
From my vantage point on the couch, I see the tail go by and then turn and pass by again.

I dangle my hand.

He comes and brushes against my hand, does a loop around the coffee table and brushes past again. If I try to rush things and just pet him, darn it, he will disappear to do cat things like attack my potted plants. But if we make it past the initial flirting, he will come and allow me to pet him --but only on his terms. If I move too fast and just go right for that soft belly, he will wrap up around my hand and leave tiny puncture wounds to remind me of who is boss.

BUT, if I time everything exactly right, he will nonchalantly get nearer and nearer to me until he is curled up right besides me, purring like a freight train and I will be unavailable to answer the phone or email or the call of nature until he leaves.
In our family, this is called, "having a cat" and it is the only valid excuse for delaying to do something asked of you. "I'm sorry. I can't right now --I have a cat."

Here is Edward, curled up on my desk as I was writing this earlier. He never jumps up here, but today there's a snowstorm outside and he needed his person.