Toy Slut

Twitchy peed on my pillow.

She peed on my warm, soft down pillow that Rochi bought for me when we couldn’t really afford it.

The part of me that has a sense of humor thinks she’s telling us she likes him better because he’s bought her so many toys. Here she is playing with two at once.

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To be fair, she did pee on Rochi’s chair a couple of times when she first came here, but that was before he seduced the little slut with all the toys.

The less humorous part of me is heart-broken. Why my pillow? Is it because it smells like me? Is this some twisted natural world message of love and adoration?

“Thanks for all the tuna. It was really good. Here, have some pee in return. I’d give you something else, but I don’t have anything else. And you’re not getting any of my toys.”

I don’t think either of us fully realized what it means to take in a feral cat. She’s so pretty; it’s hard to remember that just a few months ago she was living wild, most likely surviving on dirty water and bugs.

Now she has a safe, comfortable home where the water is clean and the food healthy and plentiful.

I understand. She doesn’t have any reason to trust any of this. She doesn’t know what trust is. She doesn’t even know what petting is.

But did she have to pee on my pillow?

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7 thoughts on “Toy Slut”

    1. I know a lot about cats and don’t understand it at all. She plays constantly, so it shouldn’t be the hunting thing. She’s got no competition from other cats and we haven’t changed any of our routines. I’m really hoping it’s a one time thing. I’d hate to have to strangle the little slut.

  1. From a friend’s FB post just today:
    “In the middle of the night, the hinge squeaked as the bedroom door slowly opened and I peeked warily from under the pillow, half expecting a rare visit from the house ghost. When I felt the bump on the bed, realised Fat Cat, the once feral stand-offish rescue, had muscled in and waddled over. I lay there quietly till I felt his sniffing and whiskers on the back of my hand….And then the surprise of his raspy tounge! I took this as an unexpected expression of affection from this creature that would tolerate but a moment or two of petting before swiping or nipping, and adjusted myself to accommodate his choice of a comfortable spot by my belly. And as I lay there unmoving in a position that would be the envy of any contortionist, realised that he probably still picked up a whiff of the bacon I hand fed him earlier, or perhaps was enjoying a little splatter of sauerbraten sauce! So funny :-)”

    There is hope!

    1. I honestly don’t know, Diana. This morning we discovered that she’d peed on the foot of the futon. Hubby thinks she’s gotten used to the house and wants to go outside, which we can’t allow–too many strays in the neighborhood to fight with. I really, really hope this will pass, and quickly!

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