Cal .... and Nicholas the Cat.
When Cal and I first started dating, conversation would get really awkward as it turned to the subject of my cat. He would get kinda quiet, mumble something about the dogs he had growing up, them promptly change the subject. He told me once that he could lie and say that he's allergic, but that he'd feel bad about the dishonesty. The truth was, he said, that he just didn't like cats one bit. And if he and I were going to last, then the cat would have to go.
One time, I remember, he suggested giving Nicholas to my parents. No nod to the fact that Nicholas had been a part of my household since 1998, when I was a junior in college. No comprehension that he, not Nicholas, was the newbie, the one who had to pass muster. Cal thought he had the right to approve (or not approve) of Nicholas. In actuality, Nicholas was the one who needed to decide about Cal.
When Cal moved to Macon a little over a year ago, he began to realize the special place that Nick held in my heart. After a good little while, he got accustomed to the cat hair on my furniture, the incessant meowing at the door, the random piece of cat food (tracked into the house, latched somehow on one of Nick's paws) lying on the carpet in my bedroom.
I knew Cal was starting to come around when he'd get (subtly) excited to see Nicholas lounging on his porch instead of mine when he got home from work. We lived, you know, only 1 house apart.
Nicholas didn't take long to figure out that Cal and I had a thing going. He knew we spent a lot of time together, and it didn't matter to him which of us fed him or talked to him, as long as someone would just please pay him some mind. He got to where he'd park himself on the steps of the house in between the two of ours after we each left for work; that way, he'd be equally close to whichever of us got home first that afternoon. Cal would laugh at his antics, but he'd never admit that Nick was a pretty fabulous feline.
It wasn't until we got married, however, that Cal stopped pretending that he hadn't fallen -- hard -- for Nicholas. He started out tough: no Nicholas in the house. Ever. Since then, he's changed his tune. The cat, MY cat, has become the husband's new best friend. Cal laughs at just the sight of Nick sauntering past the window. He'll call me in the room to look out at the porch at a particularly funny way that Nick is sleeping. They're inseparable. If Cal's in the yard working on his boat, Nick's in the yard watching. If Cal comes out the front door to get his newspaper in the morning, Nick beats him there to say hello.
And, just recently, I've started coming home to find Nicholas curled up, asleep ... (wait for it) ... IN THE HOUSE. And on Cal's beloved recliner, on top of that. Who'd have ever thought?
And so, a tribute to My Boys. Aren't they adorable?
Yes, Cal is feeding Nicholas yogurt in that last one. Nasty, I know. Too funny not to share, though, and too perfect for making my point. That one is going on, actually, as I write, and inspired this blog post to begin with.
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