bottom line: my life is better with cats
If you know me at all, you know this post was inevitable. Yes, I’m one of those – a cat lover.
I’m not going to say “cat lady,” because that sounds like I have 17 cats in my house on the outskirts of town where I play Bobby Darin records, eat bon-bons and watch game shows. Alone.
Right now that sweet little guy on the left, Walter, is trying to get settled in my lap as I sit at my desk and type this post. He’s my snuggler, the first lap cat I’ve ever had.
They soothe me. When I’m stressed, lonely or despairing, they’re there to protect me from all evil.
Like so many cat lovers, I want to show my appreciation for them. In my home, I have to keep myself from over-decorating my apartment in cat-themed art. It’s really startling to one day look around and lose count of how many inanimate cats there are in your home.
I decided it was time to move away from it, and at the same time look for something I hadn’t tried at all before, Modern Art.
I thought, check out Andy Warhol. Guess what I found out? Mr. Warhol did a whole series of cat pictures. I now have a print of one in my bedroom. It’s called “So Meow” and the colors are perfect. I’m not sure if I won or lost with that one. Let’s face it, wherever I go, the cats are going to pull me in,
Almost twenty years ago I picked up the cat of my heart, Paco. I love every cat who’s ever been a part of my life, but Paco was special. We were both lonely souls at the time who desperately needed each other. I saved him, and he saved me. It was a bond I don’t expect to have again.
When I got him, he was the squirreliest looking thing ever — great big ears, great big paws, a great big tail and scrawny everything else. Kind of like an awkward teenager, although at first I simply thought I’d inherited a homely cat.
“Mom,” I said in a panic when I called her. “He’s so funny looking and he ignores me!”
“I’m sure he’s not that funny looking,” she replied, “and he just needs to get used to his new home.”
Right on the second part, wrong on the first. But eventually he grew into the big beautiful cat he remained until he died at the age of 16.
Paco would sit at the door and wait for me to come home at night. I moved in with my mom for a short time, and she said he got in place about 30 minutes before I was expected home. I made sure I was never late.
One weekend I visited my brother out of town. I left at the usual time in the morning with a bag Paco didn’t recognize. My mom told me (after I got home) that he waited for me until 10:30 that night, until she finally picked him up and brought him into the living room to sit next to her. He pretty much stayed there until I came home. Then he was really mad at me, and hissed for an hour. Then he wouldn’t leave my side.
I’m crying a little as I write that story. I miss him, but I love my current babies, Walter & Mimi. I hope I always have a cat in my life. These are pictures of some of those who have made my life better just by waking (me) up in the morning.
And I confess, I do listen to Bobby Darin from time to time. So do Walter & Mimi. We’re romantics. But I’m still a cat lover, not a cat lady.