Tuesday, November 27, 2012

We have a cat here at the convent. Her name is Emily and she belongs to Sr. Faith Margaret. When Sister is traveling, I'm the one who scoops the poop, feeds her and gives her medication. She often sleeps with me when Sister is gone. Most of the time I don't mind at all. She's a good cat.

But she's not my cat. I would like to have a cat of my own, specifically an orange cat like this one in the picture.

I would name it something really dumb, like Ginger or Home Depot.
I would love my cat.

On the other hand, I can predict a zillion reasons why this would be a terrible idea. Who would take care of my cat when I travel? And I don't know what I'd do if Emily didn't like Home Depot, if they didn't get along. Of course I would side with my cat in any disagreements. I would blame Emily for throw-up in the hallway. I would compare who had the cleanest cat litter box. I would begin to resent Emily, who now holds the seat of grace in our house. She's a good cat; she doesn't deserve that. She's just not my cat.

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