AS a dog person, I was a failure. My dogs always ran away. Itried not to take that personally, especially when I got to collegeand the women I wanted to date adopted the same behavior as adefense mechanism. When I finally found a girl willing to stay, itturned out that she was a cat person. That cultural difference wasnot a major piece of our negotiations when we decided to getmarried. It was far down the list from my desire for ESPN and herneed for Lifetime.
Now, though, I find myself living in a cat house. The mostprominent occupant is a little rocket of a kitten, who, for the sakeof his privacy, we'll call "Rupert."
Rupert has Attention Deficit Disorder. He needs treatment.
Here is his frantic daily schedule:
1. Give false impression of cuteness and innocence.
2. Run, leap and attack larger cat who also resides in home. Twocats tumble, scratch and scream simultaneously.
3. Snub kitten-sized bowl of food in favor of food dish meant forbig cat.
4. Run, run, run - decisively and purposefully - to stalk make-believe prey.
5. Climb up the side or back of brand new furniture, digging inlittle claws.
6. Bite.
7. In the evening, in a very cute way, climb into bed with humanresidents and fall asleep.
8. Wake up and demonstrate affection either by licking the hairof sleeping human resident or by attempting to sit on head ofsleeping human resident.
9. Repeat as necessary.
I am not yet a cat person, but "Rupert" has met me part way. In alot of ways, he acts just like a dog. I like how he runs down thestairs to greet me when I come home. And I like how often he wantsto sit on my lap, even if his main intention is to bite me.
As I adjust to a new world of cats, I have adapted a defensemechanism of my own: I pay attention only when "Rupert" is givingthe false impression of cuteness and innocence.
Writer Brad McElhinny can be reached at 348-1244 or by e-mail atbradmc@dailymail.com.
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