So Nice, I Did It Twice
How one house sit turned into an encore, complete with two cats, a generous host, and a home I was happy to return to.
I suppose finding yourself back just a few days after saying goodbye is one way of knowing you’ve found a sit worth returning to.
I had barely said goodbye to Cami and Mia before I found myself back for an encore.
Of course, a great house sit begins with a generous host, and mine had made me feel genuinely welcome from the start. I’d met the girls beforehand, familiarized myself with the house, and arrived for the actual sit already knowing my way around. I was trusted to make myself at home, invited to help myself to food, and given a beautifully prepared bedroom and bathroom.
The house itself was comfortable and uncomplicated, and so were most of my responsibilities. The girls had everything a modern cat could reasonably demand: toys, scratching pads, a water fountain, smart litter technology and, most impressively, their own catio, big enough for a human to comfortably step inside.
Apparently, the catio had been installed before much of the human furniture was purchased.
That told me something about the household hierarchy.
Two girls, two entirely different agendas
Cami and Mia are both female. They both possess the feline instinct to hunt.
That is approximately where the similarities end.
Mia is the home-girl. She likes being indoors, enjoys a snack and seems perfectly satisfied simply sitting with you. She’s the sort of cat who makes domesticity look like an excellent life choice.
Cami has other plans.
Cami is an outdoorswoman.
Given the opportunity, I suspect she would happily spend 24 hours outside, Texas heat notwithstanding. She’ll come indoors to eat or have a drink, then turn around as though the entire visit had been a quick stop at a roadside service station.
Back to the door.
She is also the first cat I’ve met who doesn’t seem particularly motivated by treats. Apparently, even bribery has its limits when the great outdoors is waiting. One of these days, I fully expect her to figure out the patio-door handle and eliminate the middlewoman altogether.
Keep her inside, though, and Cami becomes a different cat.
Suddenly, she discovers intimacy.
A lap is insufficient. She prefers the chest. Sometimes the neck. And if I’m working at the computer and therefore unavailable for use as furniture, she has another strategy. I get up for a bathroom break; Cami takes my chair.
I return.
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Cami has a chair.
I have a problem.
Then came the man
Before the sit, I’d been told that Cami wasn’t particularly keen on men.
This became rather relevant when my partner joined me partway through the stay.
I wondered how that introduction might go. Cami, after all, is a jumpy little thing, seemingly always on alert.
Apparently, nobody had briefed Cami on her reputation.
Because the most peaceful I saw that vigilant little cat sleep during my time with her wasn’t tucked away in some protected corner of the house.
It was on my partner’s lap.
So much for that.
And then I did it again
There are house sits that work because the logistics are right. The location is convenient. The responsibilities are manageable. The house is comfortable.
And then there are the ones where all of those things are true, but something else happens too: you settle in.
This was one of those.
Perhaps that’s why, when the opportunity arose to return only a few days later, it didn’t feel as though I were beginning another sit. It felt as though I were simply continuing the first.
There was Mia, still perfectly content with the indoor life.
There was Cami, still campaigning for unrestricted outdoor access.
And there I was again.
Some recommendations require paragraphs of explanation.
This one required an encore.
