A Taste Change

     When growing up, my siblings and I were really never cat lovers.  We were more dog lovers.  The dog gained our love and attention.  He was more apt to do things with us on the farm.  The cat went about doing its' own thing.
     It's sad, but the time I remember doing anything with or for a cat was to get my Daddy to pull a fishing hook out of the paw of a kitten.  Someone had gone fishing and had left the pole with a hook out in access of a playful kitten.
     There are not many memories to pop up from my childhood about the cat.  But I have made a lot of memories that pop out at me now from my adult life interacting with cats.  I have become more of a cat lover now and not much of a dog lover.
     Can I explain this away as my taste changing?  When growing up, we were fed food we grew.  Many of those items I did not like.  Mother cooked and often said, "You eat what I cook or do without!"
     Often I simply did without.  But now, as an adult, it seems I like those green beans, okra, squash, etc.  I like anything fresh from a garden now!  My taste has changed.  Can it be the same when I discuss my regard to my feelings for a cat vs. what I feel for a dog?
     Cats may be independent animals, but it is said they pick their master.  My cat Mya has chosen me.  Up in my lap she jumps.  Up close to my face she comes.  She now leans her head back and rubs against my chin.  I can't see a big husky dog doing this...

Merry Christmas!

    I want to take this time to reiterate what I said last Christmas because I think it is important!

     Christmas is truly a wonderful time of the year.  As we buy for family, friends, etc., let us not forget our four-legged member of the family.  Our cat has demonstrated all year long his/her loyalty and love for us.  At this time of year give a bag of treats.  Or better yet, hang a stocking filled with all kinds of cat toys.  After all, cats sometimes act like people, too.

MERRY CHRISTMAS to all cats and cat lovers!



And HAPPY NEW YEAR, too!

Never Say Goodbye

     For every stray cat that I have fed in the past, I'll never say good-bye.  If I say good-bye, it implies I'll never see them again.  
     There are television news stories about pets being reunited with their owner.  I think about that when it comes to each and every stray I come into contact with.  Sometimes, after they are fed, some simply disappear.  In my heart, though, I choose to believe that they are still out there somewhere.  I'd rather think this way about them, than to consider that they might have passed on.  
     The life expectancy of a stray cat can be to from 2 to 5 years. That's the best case scenario. It's a hard life to be unprotected outdoors.  But I have seen old cats come to be fed.  They have beat the odds.  That's why I won't say good-bye.  There's always a chance that they have just moved to better feeding grounds or a safer location, or possibly both.  I always hope for them to come back around to me. 


     I have had indoor cats in the past that I have shared many years with.  They have passed on, but I don't say good-bye to them either.  They may not be present in the flesh, but they stay in my mind...in my memories.

Katie Heather

     She was a special cat.  So special that she got two names.  When she was born it was obvious she'd have to be treated as special.  Our Uncle Jack offered to put Katie Heather out of her misery.  She would never be able to lead a normal female cat's life.  You see, Katie Heather had no back legs. 
And so, the cat would scoot along the floor to get around. 
     My brother David would not allow her to be put down.  He believed any person or animal had the right to life.  He made up his mind to take care of Katie Heather.  It wasn't easy.  Her using a litter box was challenging.  The cat ended up living a long time.  One fateful day, though, she died.  My brother blamed himself.  Somehow Katie Heather had gotten out of the house. 
     The day she slipped outdoors was a bitter cold one and she remained outside overnight.  The scooting along the frozen ground surely added to her demise.  But she had been loved.  She had lived a long life that if not for David, she would not have lived at all. 
     Katie Heather, you are remembered.  Your name alone was unusual and got my attention.  Not too many cats are special enough to have had two names. 

Is it Love, or am I Dreaming?

     Many nights I fall asleep only to awaken to a heavy something jumping up beside me on the bed. 
     "Oh, it's Billy," my sleepy mind registers. 
     How he judges where to land without sinking claws into me I do not know.  Then a loud rumbling purr begins.  He has the loudest purr of all four of my cats. 
     He loves me.  This I know.  During the day, he seeks my lap, but I rarely sit still during the day as a stay-at-home mom.  But now, while I am immobile, he carefully walks up to my pillow and positions himself in an arch....around my head.
     It's weird.  But....it's Billy.  He leaves me just enough room on my pillow to make me wonder if I ought to run him off.  But I don't.  We both go to sleep.  Sometimes he extends a paw and touches my face.  I wonder what my husband thinks of this cat lying above my head.  He says Billy owns me.  He grew up with cats just like I did, so he gets it. 
     I've actually had this cat for eight years, but this is a new development.  Years ago, he would jump up on my husband's side of the bed and WALK ACROSS HIM to get to me.  My husband didn't react well to getting walked on in the middle of the night and Billy was shoved off rather unkindly too many times, so he quit coming. 
     Does Billy love me so much that he can't resist getting as close to me as he possibly can?  Or does he just love my pillow? He may just recognize a prime location when he sees one.

(This was written by my daughter, Karen.)

Shady and Slappy

     Of all the stray cats I have fed, only two cats remain.  I have my theory on what has happened to all of those cats.  But I am left to only speculate whether or not I am right. 
     I continue to put out cat food hoping to some day see cats return.  Until more cats return, there is Shady (a female) and Slappy (a male) there every morning, noon, and night.  They come to be fed.
     Shady, who regularly goes into heat, apparently is unable to have kittens.  Nevertheless, it doesn't prevent Slappy's interest.  Sometimes there are a few other male cats who come following Shady's every move, but they disappear as soon as the "heat" cycle is over.
     Slappy maintains his distance and allows no human hand to touch him.  Shady is completely opposite.  I touch and rub her daily.  She comes for the food and loves the attention I give her.  I am not the only house giving food to her.  Across the street she runs to a neighbor's house.  The neighbor throws food to her.  But his hands have yet to touch her.  The neighbor laughs and says, "She is playing us both!"
     Yeah, I love this black short-haired cat that I call Shady.  I have no idea where she came from, but I am glad she came.  I often give her treats from a bag.  I begin to pour.  I lean down low so the treats won't go everywhere.  Shady lets me know in no uncertain terms that what I plan to give her is not enough.  She reaches out a paw giving a slap that forces more treats to spill.  I laugh as perhaps I misnamed the two cats.  Perhaps she should be called Slappy and the male should be called Shady.  Either way, the two cats' behavior leaves me with a feeling of happiness.  I love you, Shady.  And yes, I love you too Slappy.

"No!"

     Recently I started babysitting my two year old granddaughter.  This child has not been taught the word "no."  I am constantly telling her "no" when she goes for an item she is not allowed to touch.  Her curious little mind has her wanting to test me on everything in my house.
     I became amused when I found myself yelling "scat" at my cat Mya when she jumped on the table. 
     Hey, could the word "scat" be the word "no" to a cat?  If Mya is on a table or anywhere she doesn't belong, the mention of the word sends her scrambling!