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Owning cats came with a lot of responsibilities that Andrew had not anticipated. Everyone always talked about cats being low maintenance pets but Andrew would argue against that any day. Low maintenance? There were litter boxes to be scooped, multiple times a day if you wanted to avoid a smelly apartment. The cats needed feeding and fresh water each day, and also treats. Lots of treats. Multiple brands and types of treats. They needed their fur brushed, their claws clipped, their bellies rubbed – but not too much. There were traumatic trips to the vet for shots and checkups. And then there were the unpredictable and terrifying medical emergencies, too.
There were other challenges people didn’t tell you about, like the persistence of cat hair. Sometimes Andrew would look across the apartment, when the warm afternoon light was falling through the window, and spy multiple cat hairs wafting through the air. They ended up in his coffee, on his food, in his mouth, and always on his clothes. Andrew was fairly certain that he was keeping the lint roller companies in business. It didn’t matter how often he or Neil cleaned, the cat hair hung around like another pet, sticking to the bottom of their feet or socks, clinging to black material and proclaiming to the world: this person owns two cats!
Where there was an excess of hair there were also hairballs. Andrew about lost his shit the first time King threw up a hairball. Neil was convinced King was dying as the cat hacked and wheezed and looked absolutely pathetic. When it was all over King had sniffed the disgusting and surprisingly small pile and then sauntered off to bathe on top of Neil’s pillow.
That was the other thing. The cats always slept where they weren’t supposed to: on the kitchen counter and piles of fresh laundry, on bed pillows and stacks of paper that they had found and shredded. Andrew woke up once to find Sir sleeping on Neil’s head, his warm cat body curled up in Neil’s auburn hair. (Andrew had taken a few pics before relocating the growling cat). King liked to sleep on Andrew whenever possible. Andrew would settle on the couch, coffee mug in one hand, book in the other, and not even two minutes later King would be on his lap, nuzzling his hand for attention. Not a few times this had led to spilled coffee and cursing.
The cats were always getting in the way. Twining around his legs while he shuffled into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee in the mornings. Begging for people food at mealtimes. Yowling outside the bathroom door when Andrew needed to shower. Noisily sticking their paws under the bedroom door when he and Neil wanted to have some alone time. (It was off putting to have their intimate moments observed or interrupted by the curious and/or bored cats so Andrew always shut them out).
Sir and King frequently got in the middle of Neil’s pre and post run stretches, pouncing on his back or bumping into him while he struggled to hold a stretch. They were menaces whenever Andrew got on his laptop or wanted to play video games. Movie nights were their favorite. They crowded Neil and Andrew, sprawling over laps or laying behind them on the back of the couch. They whined for popcorn or ice cream or chips and took excessively long baths, the background noise of licking and scratching an awkward accompaniment to dramatic or romantic scenes.
His cats were not low maintenance, distant, or standoffish. Sir and King were every bit as intrusive and clingy and annoying as Neil. And maybe he loved them a little bit because of it. Not that he would ever tell Neil.
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In Neil’s opinion, there are zero problems with owning cats. He loves everything about them. He loves their wild-eyed 3am charges through the apartment. He loves watching them play-fight, though it scared him the first couple of times. He loves buying them new toys and playing with them. He loves shared nap times with Andrew on one side of him and the cats curled up on the other.
He loves it when he catches Andrew talking to the cats or scratching behind their ears while the cats purr loudly and happily. He loves coming home and finding Sir and King waiting for him, crying and meowing for attention.
When he and Andrew are away for games he worries about the cats and calls their dedicated cat-sitter every day to check up on them. He spends more time than he should looking through all the pictures of Sir and King and Andrew.
Cats and Andrew and Exy. The odds against him ending up this happy and domestic are laughable but here he is. He is with the person he cares about most in the world, a man who supported him during his darkest moments and continues by his side, watching out for him and loving him. He gets to play Exy all the time, against the best players in the world, instead of running for his life and dying a little every day. And he has cats.
His cats are every bit as mysterious and warm and steadfast as Andrew and he loves them for it. And he tells them so every day.