This is the character I had to convince to warm up to me before she would. He's an odd creature, at best, very smart, standoffish, skittish, filled with wild impulses. When he finally decided to start coming out of hiding, because I was hanging around her place so much, it still took many weeks before he let me touch him. It came down to feeding him his treats.
Not to trivialize human love, but on some levels it wasn't so different with her. Anyway we all became best friends for a while, a rather dysfunctional little family or sorts; and my kids grew to love her cat, though I'm not sure those fond feelings were even partially returned...except, of course, once they started presenting him with treats.
I am not really that much of a pet-oriented guy, mainly because once we have them I start to feel overly responsible for the damn things, and worry how the children will feel when something (inevitably) happens to their beloved dog, cat, fish, hamster, guinea pig, or snake. (Yes, snakes; my oldest son used to rescue them when his cat attacked them and nurse them back to health. Luckily he also returned them to the "wild.")
Okay, I miss this little furball; I'll admit it. Queerly, though, when I asked her if she did, too, she said she hadn't thought about him in months. I guess that's what's happened regarding me; she never thinks about me anymore, right? Out of sight, out of mind = out of heart. I guess that is how most women "move on."
Maybe my friend T who posted here a few weeks ago ("Listen to your heart, a woman's view") is right. Men are the true romantics.
Women are like cats. The best description I saw recently was on a sign in a window on Bernal Heights advertising a cat for adoption: "Knows how to withhold love as only a cat can."
I must be in recovery mode, because rather than slowing, I sped up and away from that and every other cat that comes into my field of view...
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