I live with a cat. She is grey and black, petite, friendly. She is a sweet little thing and a good companion.
Growing up, there was always a dog in the house. I think that originally the dog was for keeping Mom company while Dad was at work. Or maybe a dog was just a standard household fixture of "normal" American life.
My parents got a dog from the pound after they married and ever after something four-footed informed all of our lives.
Dogs are wonderful companions for people who like to get to know their neighbors. After my mother died, I received custody of the family dog when my father re-married. I lived in a tiny mother-in-law apartment in a neighborhood of five houses, down a dirt road which was encircled by a golf-community development. The neighbors collected errant golf balls in their yards. The dog was my goodwill ambassador. Walking her introduced me to everyone coming in and out of our friendly enclave.
Cats are wonderful companions for people who need to remember that other things are important. Cats come for your attention when you are typing or reading the newspaper or doing something else which is idle and occasionally obssessive.
We never had a cat when I was a child because my mother had one when she was a kid that would get into fights and come home bloodied. Well, that's what I remember hearing, anyway. It wasn't until one showed up in our backyards when Mom was ill that I came to love cats.
One day I looked out the backdoor, perhaps the dog had drawn my attention, and saw a cat playing with a tiny field mouse. Playing... she was tossing the mouse in the air. I don't know why cats do this. Perhaps they haven't had enough of a chase.
I don't know what happened after that. The cat came around, up onto the back stoop. I was somewhere in my early 20s. Mom's nurse, Barbara, was a cat-lover... I'm sure that helped things along. However it was, the cat came inside. She was missing patches of fur and she was wormy. We fed her and I plucked ticks from her calico coat.
When I said to Dad that we ought to turn her over to the Humane Society, he said no. He said that cats didn't get adopted there and that they would only end up killing her, so she came to stay. She then started to get fat and her fat turned into bumps which turned into kittens. Dadwas thrilled that the cat chose to give birth under his bed. It endeared the cat to him all the more.
When the time came, we created a poster with pictures of the kittens that said "Take my kittens, please" and my mother held it as we cruiseded the grocery store. A young couple stopped to talk to us and soon came to our house to relieve us of Cali, a calico, and Cosmo, and orange tabby. Grey went to the home of one of Dad's co-workers. But Stripe, the pick-of-the-litter, at least in my eyes, stayed with us.
I was housebound with my mother and raised that cat. She was devoted to me, thanks to a college-friend, Mary Russell, who taught me: "If you want to get a cat devoted to you, feed her in your lap." It was some mystical New England lore, I suppose, but it worked. It was advice I never knew I would use. (I mention her name in memory.)
At the time, we lived on 5 acres and the cats ebbed and flowed out the front door and lolled in the sun on the wheelchair ramp. Sometimes they would find their way up a tree to the rooftop or would disappear into the brush. I always fretted for their welfare but was poo-pooed and vetoed by Barbara who ignorantly insisted that the cats be free spirits.
Listen to me, people... cats do fine indoors. They adapt. They live longer, healthier lives that way. Left to wander outside they are responsible for species depletion and are susceptible to any number of perils including disease, wild animals, cars and cat-haters. If you really love your cat, devote a sunny spot to it and let it live inside.
The cat that came to our door lived to be 19. I had to put her to sleep between hurricanes Frances and Jeanne because it was time. Her beautiful soul was gone and she was functioning on pure will and instinct. I loved her very much.
My third cat I brought home from the vets where I work part-time. She was left there because she apparently killed an expensive pet bird (in spite of having been declawed) and the owners wanted her put to sleep. The doctor will not euthanize without a good reason, so sometimes we have guests for quite a while. (Please note: If you have a bird and a cat, don't let the bird wander freely when you are not home. Duh!)
I had been thinking that the old cat would be happier during the day with a companion because I worked in anothercounty and couldn't make it home during the day. I took cat #3 home but she was wild and her clashes with the old cat kept me up and I brought her back. After a while, she was still in the cat ward and the office manager demanded that I take her... so I got information on how to introduce a new cat into a home with other pets. I figured having another cat around would enliven the older cat who had grown up with the dog who had recently passed away. Now she's just here to enliven me.
She yowls out the window for me when I come home, rising on her haunches to paw at the screen needily. She loves to lay on top of the covers and to rub her face against the computer screen as I work. She also loves to lick my forearm with her sandpapery tongue. (Sorry, I do not find that remotely pleasant.) She gives me reason to stop home and excuse to go home. She keeps me from ever feeling alone.
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