By now, you all know me well enough to know that whenever an adoptable animal makes its way into my office for any length of time, I get emotionally invested and immediately begin devising ways to convince my partner, Andrew, that it’s a good idea for us to adopt.
You probably also know by now that Andrew is the worst – and my devious plots to convince him that it’s perfectly reasonable to raise a 300 lb pig in a townhome are thwarted by his unapologetic abuse of sound logic.
He has absolutely no interest in my happiness, and puts the kibosh on every attempt to make our home a halfway house for wayward pets, farm animals, and the occasional sassy raccoon.
For the record, I’m not an idiot. I know that it isn’t appropriate (or legal) to keep raccoons as pets, sassy or otherwise. For that matter, I also know it isn’t appropriate for farm animals to live in townhouses. But Andrew doesn’t know that I know this – and if it’s ok with you, I’d like to keep it that way. So mums the word, capiche?
You see, I’m playing the long game. My strategy is to wear him down over time so that when the day comes that I find a dog, cat or critter that I really cannot live without, I have the ammunition to emotionally manipulate him into agreement.
It would likely go something like this:
Me: “Babe, look at this adorable little [insert species here]. She’s perfect in every way, and I think we should adopt her.”
Andrew: “No. I’m the worst, and I have no interest in your happiness.”
Me: “But I can’t live without her. If you won’t let me have a raccoon or 300lb pig, then I must INSIST that we adopt this very sweet [insert species here] – and I won’t take no for an answer!”
Andrew: “Gee, you’re a shrewd negotiator. I’ll agree to adopt this [insert species here], but that means NO raccoons, pigs, or ducks! Deal?”
Me: “We’ll see.”
See how that works? I know. It’s genius.
For a couple of weeks now, the ladies in my office have been trying to convince me to play this card for a cat by the name of Lux who has been hanging out in our office. I have to admit, it’s a really tempting idea – but there has been something nagging at me all along that has kept me from doing so. Over the weekend, I was finally able to put my finger on why I’m hesitating.
We’re just too much alike. It’s that simple. She’s the feline version of me – and that kind of relationship could never work.
For starters, she’s an absolute diva. Not that I’m saying I’m a diva. But I probably do have some diva tendencies. Perhaps I’m just on the cusp of diva. At the very least, diva adjacent.
Lux though, she is full-on Mariah Carey diva with a side of Celine Dion at Caesars Palace. This girl is all about that glam Hollywood life – and she views everyone around her as adoring fans to be blessed with her charisma, talent, and stunning good looks.
Even her walk is over the top glam. She walks as though she’s tip-toeing along a movie premiere red carpet as camera flash bulbs pop and reporters eagerly await the allure of her meows.
And like any Hollywood diva, her temper is as volatile as her fragile ego. Scratch behind her ears and give her gentle pets, and she’ll purr like Patty Lupone performing “Don’t cry for me Argentina.”
Stop scratching behind her ears and giving her gentle pets though, and she’ll hiss and scratch like Patty Lupone in a Twitter catfight with Glenn Close. D-I-V-A.
In fact, as I write this column, Lux has already sat on my keyboard twice because she feels it’s getting more attention – and she just can’t have that.
In meetings, she makes it a point to sprawl out in the center of the room where we can all see and admire her, usually on a conference table or desk, and almost always laying on top of documents that are rather important to the meeting.
Basically, when the world is revolving around her, she’s the happiest, most engaging and charming cat ever. A true scene stealer. Fail to stroke her luxuriously soft and lustrous fur or her gigantic ego though, and she’ll swat you like Zsa Zsa Gabor to a meter maid. Seriously, she don’t play.
Andrew did get to meet Lux last week when he came to visit me for lunch at the office. Lux took to him immediately, and he’s been smitten ever since even though he still insists he doesn’t want to adopt her. But the truth is, it really wouldn’t take much convincing. He’d fold like a card table if I really campaigned.
He asks about her every day – and when he does, I just hiss.
Listen, I am self aware enough to know that in my house, there is only room for one egotistical drama queen. God cast me in that role at birth – and I don’t care how beautiful and entertaining she is, I simply cannot allow her enormous personality to draw focus.
And because he knows me, he tells me I’m pretty too – and just like that, I’m purring again.
Dear readers, I need a favor. I really need someone to come and adopt Lux ASAP. No one is getting any work done around here because all she does is distract us with her crazy antics, witty sense of humor, and gorgeous green eyes. Please help!