In the Garage

I've got an electric guitar
I play my stupid songs
I write these stupid words
And I love every one
Waiting there for me
Yes I do, I do

In the garage
I feel safe
No one cares about my ways
In the garage
Where I belong
No one hears me sing this song
In the garage

Lyrics from "In The Garage" by Weezer
from their Blue album


Meet Gretta.

She is one of my three cats, stuck in the middle of Pippin and ZZ at eleven years old. Gretta was a birthday gift, a rescue from the local vet. She's spent some time on the street, and it shows.

I learned early on that food of any kind isn't safe around this cat. I'll never forget the time that I was bringing a bite of creamy chicken enchilada (which I had actually and for once cooked) to my mouth, and bit down on fur instead. I don't know how she did it, but that silly little cat stole a very messy bite of food, snuck off to the corner, and ate every last crumb. I was too stunned by how resourceful she was to get mad. When it comes to food, she has no standards—she will eat anything.

But there's another side to Gretta, the cat who will literally climb onto my plate if I let her. She is shy. Perhaps one of the shyest cats I've ever met. I've had friends convinced she isn't real because they've never seen her. If she doesn't know your voice, she won't come out to say hi. If you have seen her, you are special. If you have petted her, you are privileged. She is selective about relationships, always a tad timid to make the first move.

At times, mere eye contact is enough to send Gretta running, although there is one place in the house that I refer to as her "safe zone": my bed. For some reason, if Gretta's in the bed, I can walk right up to her and pet her. And she wants me to. Sometimes I'll walk into the room, and she'll look up from my pillow, bob her head a little, and do this quick double meow. Translation: It's okay to pet me now. And I'm going to slime my teeth all over your fingers while you do, because I'm not shy anymore, and I just want to love you. It's pretty much the cutest thing in the world. Not just because cats are cute (duh), but because I realize how special I am to have that relationship with her.

Gretta is a very different cat once you get to know her. She had a rough start, but  survived, and came out stronger on the other side. Now, she's a spoiled rotten little kitters who gets turkey sausage from my microwave breakfast sandwich just because she's so damn cute. She reminds me to never judge a book by its cover, because there's surely something more lurking underneath.