I have a new roommate for a few days and she’s brought a black cat with her named Hans Solo.
I don’t want a cat around because some of my friends and clients are allergic to cats, but oh well, we’ll keep a stiff upper lip. Mustn’t grumble.
The door to my room doesn’t close so I have to pile weights against it if I want to keep it shut. Unfortunately, when I leave my room, there’s no way to keep it closed. So I keep coming home and Hans Solo is perched on my window sill looking out at the Hollywood Sign.
I yell at it and chase it out but it has no fear of me. It just stands there twitching his tail. He knows I’m harmless.
At night, Hans Solo throws himself against my door, yowls, claws, scratches and wages holy war to get inside my chamber. He doesn’t realize that I have the door barred by two ten-pound weights. One ten-pound weight is not enough to keep him out.
I haven’t picked up the cat yet (and I’m not allowed to let him outside). I like cats and dogs but I refuse to get close to Hans Solo because I want to regard him solely as a nuisance and I want to stay resolute in my desire to see him gone. When he wakes me up at night waging jihad against my door, I feel rage, but I also feel stirred and softened and I want to let him in and I want to cuddle with him. Must stay strong. When I catch him in my room during the day, I sometimes feel angry, but I’m confused because I kinda like having him around. I want to pick him up and pet him and hear him purr.
The last time I had these confusing feelings was when I had a girlfriend.
Solo’s owner is awesome. The kitchen is a sparkling white I’ve never seen before. The living room is vacuumed. The whole house is spruced up.
