the green-eyed, slit-eyed monster

This is Chesapeake.

Well, I’m not sure what her name really is. Chesapeake’s just what I call her. A few months ago she came up to me, cold and hungry. I was on my way somewhere for the evening, but I ran in the house and put food and water out for her. At the time I thought she was someone’s cat, maybe left outside while some student was on Christmas break. If that was the case, though, the student never came back for her.

So despite my railing against any increase in the cat-to-human ratio in our little family, Ashley and I have effectively adopted another cat. She doesn’t come inside, though.(1) Doesn’t seem to want to. Which is fine, because here are GIR and Gaz:

Even without bringing Chesapeake into the house, they aren’t exactly dealing with her very well. Whenever I go outside, one or both of them watches my every move. If they see me petting her, they stare with an intensity that’s creepy even for cats.

Gaz gets particularly jealous. When I come back inside, she climbs up on the table and meows at me until I let her smell my hand. Then she has to climb up my chest and sit on my shoulders for at least five minutes.

I can’t imagine how she would react if Chesapeake ever came in. Nor do I plan on finding out. The cat-to-human ratio applies to indoor cats and will remain at its current 3/2. And I will keep offering Chesapeake food and water until either she finds another home or until a million other strays find our house and things get unsafe, no matter how jealous little Gaz gets. She’s just going to have to accept that the fact that I wake up and pet her at 3AM means I do, in fact, love her.

  1. The cat. Ashley’s allowed to come and go at her leisure of course.

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