WHY CATS?   

I confess I love cats.

This has not always been the case.  

As a youngster and even as a young adult, I never had the occasion to be around cats.  However, this situation changed when my six-year-old daughter wanted a pet she could hug.  Beta fish didn't pass the test.  So we adopted a cat we called Ollie...except we knew very little about cats.  Luckily, cats pretty much take care of themselves.  Mostly, all they need is food and water.  Kind of like taking care of a cactus, but softer.  

Ozzie

Ollie was a bit persnickety (I discovered much later that ALL cats are persnickety).  He would paw out kibbles from his food bowl one at a time and eat them.  During the years we cared for Ollie, I never knew cats liked wide bowls because their whiskers are very sensitive.  So, Ollie adapted to the small food bowl and we got used to his odd-eating habit. 

Seven years later, Ollie passed away.  My daughter had moved away to go to college and I missed having a furry companion. I visited the Humane Society and found young cat named Ozzie.  He was a sweet tabby, but too curious for his own good.  When he was about seven-years-old, he ventured out a door that was accidently left ajar and he took the opportunity to explore the great outdoors. Not the smartest decision.

The temperatures were below freezing.  And worse, Ozzie didn't have claws.  His chances of survival were slim.  Two weeks passed, and Ozzie never came home.  He must have been so scared, cold, and hungry, trying to stay warm and trying to find water and food on the frozen ground.  My husband and I searched the neighborhood daily, put notices on lampposts, and posted about his disappearance online.  We hoped someone had found him, but no one had taken him to the Humane Society when we stopped by.   

Lizzie

I ached for another cat.  On the way home from the shelter, we dropped by Pet Smart, just to take a look.  Kittens would cheer me up.  When we saw a black and white tuxedo cat named Abby, the same name as our daughter, we adopted her on the spot (and changed her name to Lizzie). She became a lap cat and her rumbling purrs and affection helped me deal with the loss of Ozzie....who by the way, who had been found by a neighbor two weeks later and less than a mile away, unharmed and hungry. 

So, I take care of two indoor cats as well as a stray cat called Putty.  He's a fussy feline.  He wants wet food in a clean bowl.  Putty has the habit of disappearing for months and then showing up at our back door for food and medical attention when he gets hurt.  I could never turn him away.  He's a tough kitty who's been coming around for over ten years and I feel honored I've gained his trust. 

So how did I get so attached to these fur babies?  What is it about cats?  For me, it's Ozzie's fanned whiskers when he enjoys getting brushed, Lizzie's purring when she gets a chin rub, Putty's gruff meow when he gets his food bowl filled.  It's the way they show affection with playful swats, a tail tap, or a head bump.  It's their royal attitude and carriage, their dignified presence.  It's the way they calm me if I've had a bad day or if I get writer's block.    

When I was young, I would have never thought that cats would be part of my life.  Now, I can't imagine my life without them.  They have touched me with their personalities, persistence, and perseverance.  My love of cats shows up in my stories:  a tabby that goes missing, or a stray who gets care when he's injured, or a housecat that soothes a broken heart.  Through my writing, I can show others the awesomeness of cats.  Even as I write this blog, Lizzie is curled in my lap, inviting me to write another story.  No doubt a story about a cat.  I have a feline purrhaps, I will.  

  

À la prochaine!