Moishe’s Favorite Things
It has been a while since I have written a love letter to my cat. It feels like time for another one.
Will he read it? No. Would he read it if he could? Definitely not. Do I care? Also no.
This week was Moishe’s fifth Gotcha Day, meaning I’ve had him for five years. Or rather I should say he has chosen to allow me to live with him for five years. He’s little and I have all the power in terms of feeding and caring for him and moving our location, but he’s in charge for sure. And he knows that he’s got me wrapped around his little paw.
In our five years together we have been through a lot. He was about three and a half (best guess) when I adopted him. I don’t know much about his life before me other than he was rescued off the streets somewhere around the East Orange to Newark area. Since his adoption we’ve lived through the pandemic, we’ve moved homes a couple times, he has had eye issues requiring thousands of dollars in care and lots of doctor visits, and he’s got FIV (the cat version of AIDS, but not as scary as AIDS is in humans). We have seen some challenges, but all in all it has been grand to have Moishe around and observe all the activities that he cooks up for himself on a daily basis.
Moishe loves to eat. In this sense he is truly a McKay; we all love eating. Our days typically start with Moishe climbing all over me in an attempt to wake me up so that he can have his breakfast. Sometimes I wake up and he’s just staring at me, patiently. Then other times I wake up because he’s maniacally climbing here and there, pausing only to scratch at the bedding. This is the final card he plays in the Wake Up The Human game. He’s destroyed multiple sets of sheets and he knows the sound of claws on bedding will wake me up.
In the evenings he doesn’t have to work as hard for his supper since I’m already awake, but he will sit and stare at me if he feels it is time for food and I’m not moving. His favorite move is to watch me until I make the slightest movement in the direction of his food, then he sprints over to his bowl, meowing as if to say, “finally, human! I’m starving to death over here!” Then when I walk past the bowl because it isn’t supper time yet, he meows his displeasure and stares at me some more. When I do finally go for his food and he knows supper is imminent, he still stares up at me and meows a persistent tune so that I don’t forget to feed him, even though I’m actively preparing his food.
Moishe loves to barf up his breakfast. I don’t actually know if he loves this, but it happens often enough that I think he must somewhat enjoy it. He gets too excited and eats too fast and then everything comes back up, almost always on my rugs and not on the hardwood floor. Which leads me to believe that he also loves watching the human scrub the carpet.
Moishe loves the zoomies. Following a nice meal (and sometimes the barfing thereof), Moishe loves his zoomies, especially if I have the windows open. These are his busiest days when he has to trot from window to window and keep an eye on the world outside. He watches the birds zip past among the trees and shrubbery outside. Occasionally he takes a break from the windows to climb the furniture like he’s a jungle cat instead of a house cat.
Moishe loves to look at me with disdain. When I yell at him not to scratch up my furniture, he gives me this look which can only mean, “do you mean my furniture?” Also, anytime I stick my face in his side to sniff up his delicious cat smell (cat people know what I mean), he gets most offended and immediately glares at me and begins bathing all areas besmirched by my touch.
Moishe loves sleeping. He’s a cat; I think all cats love sleeping so this is not news. When he’s eaten and gotten all the zoomies out, he settles down for a nap. He particularly enjoys sleeping right next to me when I’m working from home. So I will be tapping away at the computer and look over to see him blissfully passed out and snoring. It’s just rude. I always want to wake him up to remind him that I work so that he can live his luxurious lifestyle, but he clearly doesn’t care and is an ungrateful butthole. But he’s cute though so it’s okay.
Moishe loves being dramatic. See above re: all the meowing as if he’s starving to death. When I come home after being out for the day, you’d think he spent the day being tortured by the way he carries on. If he hears me open my dresser drawers or observes me changing clothes, he starts screaming his head off. (I don’t know if he’s worried that I’m getting dressed to leave or if he is alarmed that humans can strip off their outer layers and replace them. Either way, he doesn’t take it well.)
Then there are his eyedrops. He needs eyedrops twice a day to, you know, keep his eyeballs in his head and somewhat functional. We have been doing eyedrops for about a year and a half now and he still runs and hides if he knows they are coming. For that reason I generally grab him when he’s sleeping to give him his medicine. If he’s sleepy enough, he will just go back to sleep after the drops, but otherwise he puts on a real show. He hops up and moves away from me as soon as he can, squinting his eyes and aggressively washing his face. He will sit with his back to me as a punishment for a good five or ten minutes. Then, when he’s done with his little act, he hops back up to where he had been sleeping and curls back up. So dramatic.
Moishe loves attacking the feet of the dining room chairs. I don’t know what those feet are up to, but he clearly doesn’t trust them. He attacks them regularly to keep them in line.
Moishe loves his blankie. I have a fleece blanket that I’ve had on my bed for years, long before I had the cat. I don’t know what it is about this blanket, but Moishe loves it. It is like a comfort object for him. He climbs all over it, twists it up, makes biscuits on it, and purrs the whole time. The internet says this is the equivalent of sexy time for a cat, even though he is neutered. Who am I to judge him satisfying his little feline needs? I just let him get on with it, but it is safe to say that that blanket is now entirely his and I do not use it anymore.
In spite of himself, Moishe loves to snuggle. When I first got Moishe, he truly wanted nothing to do with me unless I was feeding him. Unless he was eating he just sat in his bed on the window seat, sleeping on and off until his next mealtime. I have never been one to accept such a lack of affection from a cat, so I wouldn’t leave him alone. I went over multiple times a day to give him kisses and pets he didn’t want. I would talk to him in a baby voice and, once I knew he wasn’t going to scratch my face off, I started shoving my nose into his side for those wonderful sniffs of cat smell.
Eventually, Moishe started sleeping on my bed; not next to me, but in the corner as far away from me as possible. Then sometimes during the day he would curl up next to me on the couch; not touching, just close by. Slowly, slowly over the months of that first year he learned to tolerate my affection and eventually started to return the affection.
Now Moishe snuggles up against me without a second thought. He will even climb in my lap sometimes, which I never would have imagined possible five years ago. At night he follows me to bed, although if I vary my bedtime routine even the slightest, he gets upset (see above re: being dramatic). He will perch on the headboard and stare at me until I settle down to sleep. Sometimes he leaves the bedroom once I’m settled and spends the night probably on the couch. But sometimes he climbs into bed with me and snuggles up in a little ball up by the pillows right in the middle of the bed between me, the pillows on the empty side, and the blankets. He does hog the bed and push me over to the edge sometimes, but I like the snuggles so I let it slide.
Don’t tell Moishe this, but when I adopted him what I really wanted was a dog. I couldn’t have one because I lived in an apartment and my work schedule was, pre-pandemic, crazy. I would have been away too much for a dog. But a cat made more sense because, while they need attention and play, they are more independent. What I needed was a pet, so I settled for a cat. While I’ve always loved both cats and dogs, Moishe has officially turned me into a cat lady. I still love dogs, but I wouldn’t trade Moishe for anything.
When I whisper in his ears that I love him, sometimes I tell him, “I need you to stick around for a long time, buddy.” If his age estimation is correct, he is about 8 1/2 years old now. He’s got tons of energy and I take him to the vet a lot because of his eyes and FIV. In the grand scheme of my life, he’s only been around for a little while, but I cannot imagine life without him. I can’t even think about the Big Terrible that eventually happens with all pets. So I take care of him as best I can, keep an eye out for any strange symptoms, and whisper in his ear that I want him to live the longest life possible.
Moishe has a lot of favorite things. Little does he know that he’s my favorite thing.
Actually he probably does know. I’m pretty obvious about it.
