11.01.03 | "Cats Don't Eat Tofu, Do They?"

There's cat that often hangs around the outside of our building. She (I am not positive of her sex, but the cat acts like a "she") seems well-fed and taken care of, which leads Claudine and I to think that she is owned by a resident and is let outside occasionally to patrol about. She's black in color, quite friendly and has an awkward meow, one that starts out fine but then abruptly fizzles out, leaving her sounding like like a cupboard door creaking open.

When I came home from my jujitsu class today, she was outside. I said hello, scratched her head and went inside our building. To my surprise, however, she followed me through the door, up the three and a half flights of stairs to our flat and, when I opened our door, promptly let herself in. I had a guest!

Claudine wasn't home and it was strange to have a cat indoors. Was she going to eat something bad? Pee on the carpet? Crawl behind the couch and become impossible to recover? She was just fine, however, and insisted on inspecting everything. She sniffed around the kitchen, examined the bedroom (pawing open the door to do so, no less), climbed on the couch and looked outside the window to the balcony. She had no interest in leaving even though I showed her the open front door more than once.

I thought she might be hungry. I offered her a bowl of water, of which she took a few laps. Then I realized that I had nothing in the way of cat food. No packaged cat food, no tuna fish or bits of meat or cheese. As I rummaged through the fridge, I came across a package of tofu. "Do cats eat tofu?" I wondered. After briefly considering it, I decided that, no, cats don't eat tofu.

I was starting to feel like a bad host. But then I realized that I didn't invite her and I didn't have to worry about offending her. She's a cat. I deduced that she just wanted attention. I scratched her behind the ears and rubbed her chin. She purred and rolled around on the floor. "You're just a hussy," I told her. << REWIND