It's a Love Hate Relationship

 My cat Sydney is my baby.  I have a sort of love hate relationship with her though.  She is incredibly sweet, but she is also very smart, and very much a brat.

Let me tell you a bit more about her.   Sydney knows the sound of my car, and when I come home from work she is always sitting at the window watching for me.  It is very cute.  I always look at her and say “Hi Syd!” and although I can’t always hear her, I can see her mouth open in reply to me saying hello.  When I get through the door, she is always there waiting for me.  Sometimes I stand outside the door and just talk to her.  I say something and she says something back.  I get a kick out of how vocal she is.  When I get inside, she greets me warmly, rubbing her body against my legs.  If I don’t pick her up right away, she cries at me until I do.  When I do pick her up, I hold her close, and she wraps her paws around my neck and purrs like a little motor.   She follows me around the house as I get ready for bed, and when it is time to sleep, she comes up and cuddles with me as close as she can possibly get.

That’s the good side.  Now, for the bad side.  I assume that most cats are like this in some respect, but I will tell you about it anyway.  I can’t leave certain things lying around, because Sydney will eat them.  Food products that fall into this category are any kind of bread, any kind of meat, and oddly enough… broccoli.  Not only does she love to eat/steal actual food products, but she seems to enjoy eating other things, such as fresh cut flowers, and basically anything that is made out of plastic.  Her favourite plastic “foods” are straws, wrappers and ribbon.  One year at Christmas when I was cleaning the kitty litter, I found a piece of poop that had a piece of green ribbon in it that was at least 2 inches long.  She doesn’t just chew things.  She actually eats them!

Sydney is also what I like to call a laundry magnet.  The second I open the door to the laundry room, she comes running.  Fortunately, she is a good listener, and when I tell her “no” as she is looking curiously up at the open dryer, she obeys me.  However, if I walk away and leave the laundry door open, I can come back within a matter of seconds and find her in one of two places: either on top of the neatly folded laundry, or right inside the dryer  She has a thing for soft fabrics, and I have even gotten Sydney her own fuzzy blankets specifically for her use, but apparently she prefers her soft fabrics freshly laundered.

Thanks for "listening."