I blame this one on the youthful companion, as it was entirely her idea even if I was the one who ended up holding the leash.

See this cat?

His name is Hobbes. He looks serene and relaxed here in the living room, on the recliner that he leapt onto the minute the youthful companion exited the room (the very same recliner of doom that was featured in Day Two’s challenge), but he’s not.

Hobbes is highstrung, insatiably hungry and unable to govern his own caloric intake, difficult to pet because he claws and nips while being petted, and difficult to sleep next to because he thinks anyone next to him should get up at 3:30 a.m. and feed him breakfast.

He would also prefer to be an outdoor cat, but he doesn’t remember where he lives once he’s let out.

YC (months ago): I think we should get him a tiny harness and a tiny leash and take him on walks.

Me: Are you freaking kidding me?

YC: No! He’d love it!

Me: What if he did love it? Have you considered the fact that you would become known in the neighborhood as the weird girl who drags her cat around on a leash?

YC: Oh no I wouldn’t. But you would.

Me: You’re nuts.

Months pass and the YC keeps bringing up the idea, giggling maniacally each time she does so. Yesterday we find ourselves in the pet store, buying another bag of the super-expensive ultra-special cat litter that is the only cat litter that the cat will deign to use. (Denied this super-expensive litter, he pees on the YC’s backpack and duffel, but that’s another story.)

YC (holding up a wee little harness): Please?

Me: Absolutely not.

YC: It could be your one new thing of the day, though. Think about it.

Me (thinking about it): You know what? You’re right.

Later: let’s just say that sometimes, it’s immediately obvious that something you do once will never be done again.