housewarming gifts

July 17, 2011

We welcomed to our home this week a lovely little lady by the name of Brando. An acquaintance of a friend needed to find her a home, and as we’d been considering (though, full disclosure, I am a dog person), we couldn’t not take this little sweetheart.

She suited us perfectly because, at four years old, her traits and habits are pretty much down pat, and notable traits they were: doesn’t scratch furniture (though she has her claws), doesn’t care for plants, and doesn’t meow much. While we’re not quite there with the latter—she’s still adjusting, new people, new place, new routine—the other two we’ve been very appreciative of.

Other darling features:

  • She pants like a dog, tongue lolling and awkward pug-esque smile.
  • Her vocals fall somewhere between chimp and Jetsons car.
  • We’ve noticed she matches our apartment’s earthy color scheme quite perfectly.

Already she’s giving us gifts, which I imagine to mean she’s happy in her new home with her new owners. This morning I woke up to see the rug by our bed sloppily folded up: a wrapped present. The contents? A giant dead cockroach. She sat proudly next to it, eying me for admiration.

Now, this would have been a more satisfying sight, had I not been previously under the impression that my apartment did not have cockroaches. But, as the fella so eloquently put it, half-asleep as I jabbed at his side, “It’s New York, baby.”

Epilogue: The cat got many treats for breakfast. I just hope she’s not a frequent gift giver.

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