The feline Iron-orphan

My focus for the next 12 months is on Ironman New Zealand 2012. It has to be - this will be by far the biggest and most challenging test of my life. It is going to take planning with military precision, dedication, inspiration, perspiration, information, motivation, a good helping of madness and the support of my coaches to pull this one off.

I'm luckier than most people who do Ironman, in that I won't have an Iron-widower (as non-competing husbands of female Ironmen are known) moping about the house. Nor are there any Iron-orphans to worry about (yep, kids of the Ironman) - unless you count my siamese cat.

Here's my Iron-orphan, Miss Sydney the cat:

 

She's half Lilac-Point Siamese and half Russian-Blue. But she's definitely more Siamese than anything else: highly strung, vocal, in-your-face, half-dog half-baby, loud and has a very distinct personality.

The Iron-orphan followed me on my run tonight. I did my shift at work, then had a nap, did a spin class, did my swim, and came home for another nap. I woke up later than I wanted and decided to go for my run. The cat is notorious for following me at least halfway down the street, and a few weeks ago we walked to the vet for her appointment, with her on her harness and leash. Being of the Siamese persuasion, she's very dog-like and although she could do with a trip through puppy obedience college, she's generally pretty good at listening to things like **** off, get out, get down, no, Fancy Feast, etc. 

So, tonight she surprised me by following me for nearly 1km. I turn around and she's still following me, albeit 200m behind at least.  I can hear her yowl and it's driving me nuts so we run back home. I lock her in the house and continue my run. I can faintly hear jingling bells as I'm running towards the beach but decide I'm going mad and keep running. I stop at Coles on the way home to grab a couple of things and head for home. I get to the end of my street and here's madam Iron-orphan, sitting on a fence post, waiting for me. 

I shake my head in mock horror and we walk home. I discover she's figured out how to open the bathroom window (which only opens about three inches anyway because there's pipes and a carport obstructing it) and climbed out. Now that's clever.

She growls when people come to the door, she has to sleep between me and the door at all times, she stalks people from the window and right now she's playing with my shoelace. She wakes me up at all hours wanting to go outside, then as soon as I get back to sleep she's banging on the screen door, wanting to come back in. Yes, it's annoying. She gets called every name under the sun for that and guess what? She's always waiting for me when I get home and is always glad to see me. 

My poor Iron-orphan will be spending a bit of time in the cat hotel this year and next year, but it will be worth it. So will all the nights when tired mummy, grumpy mummy, sick mummy, exhausted mummy, busy mummy or sore mummy pushes her away because she's treating me like a jungle gym (and she weighs 4.8kg, so she's not light!). I don't feel quite so guilty because she's a cat, not a child, and I can stick her in a cat hotel if I have to.

So, fur child, thanks for the support. It's nice to have someone waiting for me when I get home from my run/ride/swim/training session/work/etc - even if you do think you're a dog, never have dinner ready, don't help around the house, and I had to duct tape that window shut!