Verified by 
Scarlett cares not for such trivial things as "toys" and "fun"!
I always say that my cat Scarlett has a hard life. And my husband always scoffs at me for saying this. He looks around at Scarlett's special plush pink cat bed (which she and she alone is allowed to sleep in), her always-filled food dish, the slavish devotion and constant pettings and cuddles she gets from her "mom." What more, he demands, could any cat want?
He certainly has a point. When I say that Scarlett has a hard life, I don't mean that anything about her outward circumstances deserves pity. I've volunteered in more than enough shelters to know just how lucky rescue cats like Scarlett are to find a loving home.
What I mean is that Scarlett's world is a place filled with innumerable things that surely exist (from her perspective) for the sole purpose of irritating her and making her life unpleasant.
Here's a condensed list of the things Scarlett doesn't like: People she doesn't know. People she does know. Being touched, approached, or even looked at directly by anybody (with one exception, which I'll come to in a moment). Changes in the weather. Change of any kind. Other cats. Cat toys. General housecleaning of any room she happens to be in. Loud noises. Soft noises. Litter that's too old. Litter that's too new. Food she's never tried before. Food she's tried too often and is now sick of.
And did I mention that she really, really hates people and other cats?
I love my Scarlett, but there's no getting around the fact that she's a surly girl. My husband always insists that Scarlett "looks mad." And I always, with a sigh, have to tell him, "She's not mad. That's just her face." My best friend, who adores animals and has two cats of her own, refers to Scarlett as "that wretched cat." My mother likes to compare Scarlett to her great-uncle Willie, who famously hated company so much that, whenever anybody dropped by for a visit, he would hold a newspaper in front of him so as to preclude conversation. Half the time the newspaper would be upside down, but Uncle Willie didn't notice because reading wasn't the point. The newspaper was his way of saying, I'm in no mood. Go away and leave me alone.
Here's the very short list of things Scarlett actually does enjoy: Pounce cat treats. The twisty-tie from a loaf of bread. Being alone. Having something soft and plush to sleep on. And---last but certainly not least--spending time with me.
The one thing I've never questioned, because Scarlett has made it clear from the day I brought her home, is that--for everything in the world she absolutely hates--she does love me. If she's sleeping, and she has her druthers, she's sleeping in my lap. She comes over to nudge my hand repeatedly with her nose until I stop whatever I'm doing to scratch her back and rub behind her ears, while she purrs and half closes her eyes in an expression of utter bliss. When I lie on the floor to do my morning sit-ups, Scarlett comes to sit on my chest (which makes the sit-ups more challenging, but probably more beneficial) and rubs her face against my cheek. At night, while I'm reading a book or watching TV, Scarlett sits just behind me on the back of the couch, nuzzling her head into the crook of my neck and resting one small paw on my shoulder.
In the early days of our marriage, my husband would see Scarlett with me, so seemingly peaceful and affectionate, and attempt to pet her himself. We went through a lot of Band-Aids and Neosporin in those early days.
I spend a lot of time apologizing to people for Scarlett. When visitors say, Oh, what a pretty kitty, and attempt to pet her, only to have her hiss and run away, I have to say things like, Don't take it personally. Scarlett isn't really a "people cat."
Life would probably be easier for Scarlett (and for me) if she were to unbend a bit and at least try to expand that list of things and people she likes. If only she were a little less thin-skinned, surely she would be happier?
And yet...I'll admit it: There's something wonderful--something completely unlike any other relationship I've ever had--something that feels almost mystical and meant-to-be, in having the exclusive love of a creature who doesn't need to love anybody or anything, but has chosen to love me.
If I were being completely honest, I'd probably have to say that it's the thing I love most about her. And, in the end, I wouldn't have her any other way.
