Get a cat, Robert

I have a cousin. His name is Robert.  He is one of many cousins. He is a older than me.  He is 40ish and has sarcoidosis.  For real.   There is no cure for sarcoidosis. Fortyish is too young to have a terminal disease, but I don't get to choose who dies when.We are best internet friends. We even have an exclusive book club. He can’t get out of his house much. I think he should get a cat.

Growing up I had cats.  My parents weren’t really into animals, but we had mice, so they allowed a cat. One cat magically turned into several cats. I am a great salesperson. The cats were supposed to stay outside, but I smuggled them across the border and into my bedroom.  They slept by my feet.  Often they slept on my feet.

This cat is more beautiful than Odd Eye, but you get the idea.

My first cat was named “Odd-eye.”  She had one blue eye and one green one.  She was white. Her tail was crooked from getting slammed in a door.  She had kittens every other day.  Odd Eye has a lot of posterity running around Bluewater Village. My Granny Mac took over Odd Eye.  My parents, and Granny didn’t want to spay her because they thought it would inhibit her mousing abilities.  I disagree.

While I was at school as a girl I would dream about my cats.  I would think about them curled up and sleeping in the sun, and I would think about what the kittens were doing.  I imagined them nuzzled up in their mother’s fur, nursing on her.  They would be in their box, scratching with their little paws that had claws that didn’t retract yet.  Those little kittens were always be poking each other in the eyes.  Their eyes didn’t open for a couple of days.  Sometimes they would get gunky eyes and I would worry about that.  I would clean their eyes with damp cue tips.

Unfortunately Odd-eye was an unreliable mother.  She would birth her kittens in high places, where they could fall.  Like the top of a mattress resting against the wall. Other times she would lay on top of them and smother them in her box.  I was always worried that there would be one less kitten in the box when I would get home.  Yes…Odd Eye was far from a perfect mother.  Going to school was very stressful for me, because I loved those kittens.

 Black Cat was lucky.

My favorite cat was Black Cat.  Her mother died shortly after she was born, which is pretty much a death sentence for a cat. Her only chance was to be adopted. We had another cat that had kittens that were about 6 weeks older than Black Cat.   She mewed and mewed until the mother carried her by biting the back of her neck and carrying Black Cat into her box. That little thing was feisty enough to fight kittens three times her size to the milk.

So, cats are great pets.  Just put out food and water and a litter box, and you are an awesome pet owner.  Cats clean themselves.  They like to lay in the sunshine.  They like to be petted, but aren't going to lick your face, unless they do.  Sometimes they lick your face.  They don’t bark.  They purr, so when you pet them, it is like having smiley face emoticons telling your right away that you are doing it right.  They are soft.  They do scratch up furniture. Trimming their nails is possible.

Prince. He is a cat model.

My girls have a cat.  He is white and black spotted like a cow. He will never make babies. The girls named him Prince.  The first thing my little girls do when they come home is hug that cat.  They are fascinated by him and his hilarious cat antics.  He chases bugs that are in the window.  Sometimes he catches them.  The two year old yells at him and tells him to “stop it,” and “no.”  She also lays on top of him and pets his face.

These two are kindred spirits.

I am no longer as fascinated by my pet cat as I was when I was a girl. But, I love that my little girls love him. That is enough.  Robert, I think a cat would fascinate you, too.