Well, now, that’s a tough one. I’d like to be a wise old owl (well, maybe not old, although I’m getting there), but that’s a myth and I’m really nothing like an owl. If owls truly were bookish, that would be me. Again, a myth.
The simple fact of the matter is, I’m more like my cats than I care to admit. I have my spurts of activity followed by long rest periods. I like my routine, except for getting up at dark o’clock in the morning.
Now, unlike my cats, I don’t care for seafood. Nothing that lived underwater, nuh-uh. And I do like a little more variety in my meals than they seem to need. But I really don’t need a whole lot of mixing it up in the kitchen, literally or figuratively. I’m content with only some variety. Or let me put it this way, I like the option of variety.
But the kitties and I have another thing in common. They check out the household on a daily basis, and so do I. They’re looking to mark territory, I’m looking to plot my next cleaning move. But you’ll see all three of us wander from room to room.
And I do like yarn. I’m constantly having to keep my cats away from my current knitting project.
I hope I’m as sweet and gentle as my kitties, but I doubt it. I think I have a little sharper edge. Okay, that might make me a little like Mimi. I guess female cats are somewhat feistier.
So, hmmm, if, like some say, my cats think I’m just one giant feline, maybe they’re right.
On Thursday, close to the end of my work day, I overhead my co-worker talking to her mom. She was crying (my co-worker, that is) and said, “I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone.” After a bit more of the conversation, I deduced that a pet had died.
It turned out I was right. When Sherry got off the phone, I asked if she was okay, and she said no, her dad’s dog had died that day. Sherry’s dad passed away four years ago, and I immediately flashed back to the time my stepdad’s cat died, eight years after his death. It was like losing the final connection to him, and brought back all the pain of the night he left us.
I don’t know if Sherry experienced the same kind of grief, but I imagine there was a lot of emotion. She told me the story of the day she got the dog, the runt of the litter, and surprised her dad with this teeny puppy. Tears rolled down his eyes when he first laid eyes on his new baby. For the next year this man, a farmer, carried that dog in the pocket of his overalls.
I felt compelled to do something to show I cared, so I got up early Friday morning and bought some flowers at the local supermarket. Nothing fancy, by any means, but I put them on her desk so she saw them first thing this morning. She didn’t seem to want to talk about it, so I didn’t push. Life goes on.
It’s funny what losing a pet can do to us. When my mom lost her beloved dog, Mishi, she cried and cried for days. The three of us kids, all teenagers, got a little irritated. It seem unlikely that she would cry that much for any of us, we said, not at all joking. I know now my mom would grieve any of the three of us much more than she would a dog, but at the time we didn’t feel loved. At least not as much as she cared for that dog.
When I lost Paco, I felt guilt and relief along with my grief. Guilt because I hadn’t realized how hard the previous year had been on him with his failing health. The vet told me it was likely his system had been shutting down for some time. I know cats are good at hiding pain, and I think Paco hid his from me, not deliberately, but because that’s what cats do. The relief came because in his last few weeks I knew I was losing him, and finally reaching that point allowed me to take a deep breath and move on. But I cried and missed him terribly. It took a long time for me to remember the good times and to let go of my guilt. I hope I can take what I learned from Paco and keep Walter and Mimi from experiencing the same.
When I was in high school, we lost our cat Gabriel. I went to my youth pastor in tears, asking if cats went to heaven. A few months later he told this story to the entire youth group, mocking my tears and making fun of my question. While he didn’t name me, I knew who he was talking about. He caught my eye and seemed surprised to see me in attendance. Or surprised by something. I never trusted him again.
When I lost my stepdad, I went to my pastor (fifteen years later and a different church) and he warned me that some people would likely say stupid things. I thought back to that youth pastor. I hope he learned his lesson. I’ve been aware ever since that I could be the one to say something insensitive.
I know of some people who say, “it’s just a dog. Get another one!” Yes, I’ve heard them say it. But those of us who love our pets know it’s something more.
If you know me at all you don’t need to ask that question. It’s cats, of course, right now my precious Walter and Mimi. It goes back to when I was eleven and we got our first cat, Whittier. From the start, my dad tells me, I was drawn to that cat far more than the multitude of dogs we had.
Which is why it was devastating when, after only a few short weeks, Whittier was run over by a neighbor who didn’t see her when he drove his truck into our driveway. I mourned that sweet, pretty kitten for days. Then we found out the folks we’d gotten her from had two more kittens available, Hugo and Petunia. We ended up taking them both home. Petunia, like Whittier, was a calico, while Hugo was a tabby.
Okay, this isn’t Salem, but she was just as pretty–and long-haired.
As you might guess, Petunia had kittens when she was barely grown herself. But again, tragedy struck, and Hugo was mauled by another neighbor’s dog. (Turns out that dog had attacked other pets before and eventually tried attacking a child. The end of the dog.) We’d come to enjoy having two cats and kept one of the cats from that litter, an all-black cat we named Salem.
When my parents divorced, we had a dilemma: what to do with all the animals. My mom moved out of state while my dad got an apartment. My brother, sister, and I didn’t have the space or resources to care for our pets, so our broken family found new homes for them. Actually, the story behind the cats was a little different. My brother took them with him to college, where they eventually found new homes with other students’ families.
Fast forward to the time I moved to Nashville. I wanted a cat and after living there for a year finally adopted Paco, the cat of my heart. I’ve told the story of how Paco and I saved each other in my blog post Coming Home to Paco, so I won’t go into it again here. I lost him thirteen years ago, around the time Walter and Mimi were born.
However, I didn’t adopt Walter and Mimi until they were about six months old. They’d been abandoned by the folks in the apartment above me in the middle of January. It was cold and icy out, and their cries kept me up all night. Despite the fact that I had no job and was in debt to the Cat Clinic, I brought them in. One of the best decisions of my life. Today, as I write this, one is at my feet and the other is on the windowsill. We just celebrated their birthday.
I think I’ll always have a cat in my life, at least as long as it’s practical. So Cats or Dogs? Cats. Invariably cats.
It’s a special Caturday! It’s Mimi and Walter’s 13th birthday. They’re getting older, and I know I may not have many more years with them. Hopefully they surprise us all and live a good while longer! But for now, I have their sweet dispositions and generous love to keep me company.
They share a birthday with our feline blogging buddy, Parker, who is 12 today. His mom has a great site called “on pets and prisoners” that’s all about her photography and the stories she tells about the pictures she’s taken. Check it out!
Well, I was taking a look at the holiday calendar for June and came across a few celebrations that involved (you guessed it) cats. June 4 was National Hug Your Cat Day (like I’m going to limit that to one day a year), June 19 is National Garfield the Cat Day, and my favorite, June 16 is National Take Your Cat to Work Day.
I’d love to take Walter and Mimi to work and let them explore my office habitat. I picture my co-workers bending down to pet them while I smile and look on. The reality, however, would be quite different and I know it. My kitties would run and look for a place to hide while those around me, dog lovers all, would mutter, “what’s the big deal about cats?” Someone would try to pick up Mimi and she’d squirm to get away, clawing them as she did so.
This is not how most cats would behave in the office.
I don’t know who thought of National Take Your Cat to Work Day, but I think they had a romanticized idea of how cats would behave in the workplace. I have a hard enough time with them when I’m on my computer while working from home. It’s difficult to train cats, so how many of us do, although my kitties do respond to a firm “down!” when I’m trying to get them away from my computer.
But the overall feeling I get from this holiday is one of love. We love our cats and want to show them off, but there isn’t a whole lot of opportunity to do. So even though I won’t be bringing my cats to work next Monday (much to the relief of my manager), I want to share how sweet and loving they are. Walter and Mimi, you’re the best!
My World With Words 
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