You can call me a good ol' fashion cat lover if you want. You'd be wrong, but
go ahead call me one if you feel the need. I'm not a cat hater though, so no
stories of cat brutality can be told. Growing up we had a few cats living with
us from time to time. I was mostly indifferent to them. I didn't bother them.
They didn't bother me. As a young adult I was still trying to decide if I liked
cats or not. I didn't have much opinion either way when one summer afternoon I
got back into my car after visiting a friend. I had left the windows down in the
car due to the heat and as I got in my car and sat down, a stray cat jumped from
the back seat on to my shoulders and sprung out of the car window from whence it
came leaving a few painful claw marks on my neck and a nearly shattered car
windshield from the high-pitched scream I let out in reactionary terror.
I was no longer riding the fence about my feelings. Cats were now on my wrong side. I still wouldn't say I hated cats at that time. Hate takes too much energy and I had other things to do.
After I got married and started raising kids, we didn't have a cat live with us that I remember. There were no cats in our house or yard or within BB-gun range, just as a unit of measurement, NOTHING else.
Time went on and the children grew into adults and teenagers. Wow, teenagers ... Don't ever have teenagers in your house. They are horrible creatures that give cats a good name in my view. One spring my 15 year old daughter who wasn't exactly in my good graces at the time, kept bugging me to let her get a kitten a friend of hers was offering from a litter. It was the easiest series of "NO's" I had offered in ages. Eventually, she worked "the mom angle" and my wife came to me with the question and presented a pretty good argument about the benefits of having a cat in the house. You know, "They are clean, they take care of themselves, they don't smell, they don't make messes, they are quiet, and best of all, they magically rid the house of any mice by their presence alone!" ALL LIES. I stood my ground and presented a resounding, "Over my dead body NO". Yes there was weeping and gnashing of teeth, but I was proud of myself at standing my ground for possibly the first time in my life.
The very next day, I came home from work a few minutes before supper was done and sat down on my chair. After a couple deep breaths, I fell asleep for a well-deserved cat-nap (pardon the pun) I woke to the feel of something light and small on my chest. When I opened my eyes, there was a black kitten rear-end exposed without shame two inches from my face. Apparently that is their way of saying "hello".
My decision not to allow a kitten in the house had been vetoed by the true powers that be. The wife and kids figured if they presented a loving, cute, little, kitten to me in a special way, I'd melt and quickly forget the fact that I had forbid it. I don't recall the exact words spoken in the house over the next few minutes. I do remember supper being equal to any gourmet meal served to royalty. I'm sure it was just a coincidence and not part of any diabolical plan to appease me.
The kitten and I kept our distance for the first few days and eventually it began to jump on the chair and offer it's behind for inspection and acceptance as they often do. I even returned the favor a few times when the correct GI conditions presented itself.
My daughter named the cat Kaeg (cage) I seriously doubt the cat cared much about it's exotically spelled name. The only thing it did care about for along time was sharpening all Eight claws of each foot on the carpet, furniture, walls, cupboards, beds, my arms and legs and whatever else would hold still long enough for it to destroy.
After being de-clawed, it was quite awhile before it fell for the old, "Here kitty kitty, wanna go for a ride?" trick.
Every night after we fall asleep, mostly between 2:30am and 4:00am, he paws at the door to be let outside. I always wake up and let him out. A few hours later, he paws at the door until I wake up and let him back inside to play. He certainly never had any intention of actually sleeping at night. His job was to make sure I never slept for more than a few hours straight.
Nine years later not much has changed, until a couple weeks ago. I let him out around 2:00am. The rest of the night I woke up at hour and half-hour intervals thinking I heard the familiar pawing at the door. Nope, one false alarm after the other. He never returned and I have no clue what happened to him or where he is. I'm not sure at what point I became a cat lover, but it started with a chair.
I was no longer riding the fence about my feelings. Cats were now on my wrong side. I still wouldn't say I hated cats at that time. Hate takes too much energy and I had other things to do.
After I got married and started raising kids, we didn't have a cat live with us that I remember. There were no cats in our house or yard or within BB-gun range, just as a unit of measurement, NOTHING else.
Time went on and the children grew into adults and teenagers. Wow, teenagers ... Don't ever have teenagers in your house. They are horrible creatures that give cats a good name in my view. One spring my 15 year old daughter who wasn't exactly in my good graces at the time, kept bugging me to let her get a kitten a friend of hers was offering from a litter. It was the easiest series of "NO's" I had offered in ages. Eventually, she worked "the mom angle" and my wife came to me with the question and presented a pretty good argument about the benefits of having a cat in the house. You know, "They are clean, they take care of themselves, they don't smell, they don't make messes, they are quiet, and best of all, they magically rid the house of any mice by their presence alone!" ALL LIES. I stood my ground and presented a resounding, "Over my dead body NO". Yes there was weeping and gnashing of teeth, but I was proud of myself at standing my ground for possibly the first time in my life.
The very next day, I came home from work a few minutes before supper was done and sat down on my chair. After a couple deep breaths, I fell asleep for a well-deserved cat-nap (pardon the pun) I woke to the feel of something light and small on my chest. When I opened my eyes, there was a black kitten rear-end exposed without shame two inches from my face. Apparently that is their way of saying "hello".
My decision not to allow a kitten in the house had been vetoed by the true powers that be. The wife and kids figured if they presented a loving, cute, little, kitten to me in a special way, I'd melt and quickly forget the fact that I had forbid it. I don't recall the exact words spoken in the house over the next few minutes. I do remember supper being equal to any gourmet meal served to royalty. I'm sure it was just a coincidence and not part of any diabolical plan to appease me.
The kitten and I kept our distance for the first few days and eventually it began to jump on the chair and offer it's behind for inspection and acceptance as they often do. I even returned the favor a few times when the correct GI conditions presented itself.
My daughter named the cat Kaeg (cage) I seriously doubt the cat cared much about it's exotically spelled name. The only thing it did care about for along time was sharpening all Eight claws of each foot on the carpet, furniture, walls, cupboards, beds, my arms and legs and whatever else would hold still long enough for it to destroy.
After being de-clawed, it was quite awhile before it fell for the old, "Here kitty kitty, wanna go for a ride?" trick.
Every night after we fall asleep, mostly between 2:30am and 4:00am, he paws at the door to be let outside. I always wake up and let him out. A few hours later, he paws at the door until I wake up and let him back inside to play. He certainly never had any intention of actually sleeping at night. His job was to make sure I never slept for more than a few hours straight.
Nine years later not much has changed, until a couple weeks ago. I let him out around 2:00am. The rest of the night I woke up at hour and half-hour intervals thinking I heard the familiar pawing at the door. Nope, one false alarm after the other. He never returned and I have no clue what happened to him or where he is. I'm not sure at what point I became a cat lover, but it started with a chair.
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