Aug 29, 2016 4 min read

It’s official. I’m not the only person in my family who has neurotic pets. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve got a few oddballs in my animal family tree, but I always thought it was just us that attracted them. Remember the blind calf we had? The dog that sat with her nose pointed directly in the air all the time? Or the critters we rescued earlier this spring? (Don’t worry about those last ones.Enough of you called the Game Commission that I was forced to release them early. Thanks for your concern.)

At any rate, my sister also apparently attracts neurotic animals. She was out of town last week, and I house sat for her and learned all of the quirks firsthand.

She has four cats that live in the house, and she also feeds a couple strays in the backyard. In addition, the entire wild kingdom knows her yard is a safe zone, so it is nothing to see groundhogs, squirrels, birds and even deer meander through. Sometimes all at once.

But it is the indoor cats who are the quirkiest. They each have their own unique brand of odd – perfectly harmless, no doubt – but odd nonetheless. Let me share what my week was like.

The big boy of the house is a large gray cat with special dietary needs. His internal issues require a prescription food to prevent larger problems. Though I haven’t eaten it, I must presume that his food tastes awful to him, because he tries everything you can imagine to sneak to the other cats’ plates to sample their fare. And while he is quite large, he is still able to jump onto the table, the counter and the chairs in search of some other – ANY OTHER – plate of food than the one set before him.

He also loves to lie on his back and play dead while sleeping.

The big girl of the house is a black cat, or so I’m told. I have rarely seen her. Rescued from a bad situation, she is so skittish she hides when I’m around. I’m told she wedges herself behind a dresser when frightened, but I feel like peering over the dresser where she may be hiding would do more harm than good, so I just slide food into the room a couple times a day. It always disappears, so she must be there somewhere.

The indoor-outdoor cat is a bit, let’s say, indecisive. No matter where she is, she wants to be the other place. She is also not shy about letting you know – repeatedly – what her needs are at any given moment. Loud mewling and door scratching is the result of refusing to open the door for her when she wants to go in. Or out. Or in. Or out.

Finally, there is a whitish cat that lives upstairs in the guest bedroom, where I’ve slept this week. She is also a little shy, though once you get to know her, you can’t get her to stop head-butting you in an effort to make you pet her. She also has funny habits about eating; mostly that she won’t begin until you go to bed and the room is silent. Then, until she is finished, all you hear is the loudest crunching you could imagine as she masticates her kibble. Between the chewing and the bumping into me, I haven’t slept all week.

I’m going to need a vacation after all of this.

Laura Zoeller can be reached at zoeller5@verizon.net.