To Each His Own
                by Angela Witt

I’m sure this checker thinks I’m a total nut.  There’s nothing wrong with coming through the check- out line with my twenty three cans of Furball Chicken Hearts and Livers in Gravy and twenty four cans of Furball Salmon in Gravy.

            “How you doin’ today, Lisa?” I greet the checker with a broad smile.

            “Just fine, sir. How about you?” she replies.
            “Fine.”

            She has a curious look written all over her face. I can tell she wants to ask a question but doesn’t know how to ask it.  I guess she doesn’t want to be rude. 

            “$34.65, Sir.”

            I pull out my wallet and look around nervously.  I don’t really want anybody seeing me buying all this cat food, especially when I’m not buying an even number of cans.  This town might try to run me off too.  I don’t see the problem with a police officer owning a few cats, well ten cats to be exact.  I might as well give her something to look at.  Give her a reason to think that I’m crazy even though I’m not.

            “Here ya go.”

            I hand her two twenty dollar bills and she blurts out, “Why in the world are you buying so much cat food?  Nobody in their right mind would own that many cats.”

            “Uh uh, well some people might.  What’s wrong with owning a few cats anyways?”  I reply, getting defensive.

            “Ummm, nothing I guess,” she said, rolling her eyes.

            “Besides cats are the best pets to have in the world.  They are totally independent and carefree.  What more could a man want?”

            “Maybe a wife and kids?”

            Geez, what’s wrong with these people?  Are they going to treat me the same way here as they did in Pike?  I hope they don’t try to run us off.  Sure, I may not be like everybody else, but that’s not a reason to run me out of town.  Where can my cats and I go and be totally accepted?

            “$5.35 is your change. Have a nice day, Officer.”

            “You do the same.”  I pick up my bags and head home. 

            I mean we just moved here to Wood, Ohio from Pike.  I guess they just think I’m going to be another social misfit that has a dead end job as a cop.  For some reason people want their police officers to be married with kids.  Not single with a bunch of cats.  Maybe people just aren’t used to a new face around here yet. That’s all it is. I just haven’t taken the time to let them to know me and my babies. 

            Apollo and Zeus greet me at the door as I trip over a scratching post.  They meow hungrily.

            “Don’t worry, you won’t starve.  I’ve got your food right here.”

            “Meow!”

            “Meow!”

            They look at me like they are saying, “Hurry up, man. It doesn’t take that long to open a can of food.”  I set the bags on the kitchen table and look around for the rest of my kids.  Pan is curled up in a ball catnapping in one of the three cat trees.  I walk down the hall trying to find what kind of mischief they got into today while I was gone.  I think I probably should have bought some air freshener while I was at the store.  This odor control kitty litter sure isn’t doing that well of a job.

            “Achilles! Aphrodite!”

            “Meow!”

            “Poseidon! Ares!  Where are you?”

            I turn on the can opener, and I hear them racing down the stairs trying to be the first one to get to the kitchen. They come skidding to a halt at my feet.  Pan jumps up on the counter and paws at a can of food.

            “How’s my boy doing?”  I ask scratching Hades behind the ear.  He just glares at me and gives me a look.  It seems he is saying, “Quit talking and dump the food in the bowl.  I don’t have all night.”

            I laugh.  No matter what others think, there is nothing wrong with owning a few cats.  I dump all ten cans of cat food in ten different bowls and set them in a row on the floor.  The cats scarf down their supper like it’s the first thing they have eaten all day.  Demeter and Hera zoom past me almost knocking me off my feet. 

            I decide that I’m hungry too and I search through the fridge for something to eat.  Even thought the chicken and livers look really good, I decide on a peanut butter and banana sandwich and a glass of tomato juice.  It doesn’t look like the cats are going to share their supper with me anyways.

“Sometimes you guys can be really selfish.” All I hear is the licking and smacking of all of my babies inhaling their chicken and salmon dinners.  I sit down at the kitchen table and start eating my sandwich.

            They sure don’t have a care in the world, so why should I?  It doesn’t matter if the people think I’m a little on the strange side.  I’m doing my job to protect and serve and that’s all that matters.  Hell, I might even start acting more and more strange.  Give the town folks something to worry about.