It is a surprise to no one that I am a crazy cat lady. The moniker of many a middle-age, single woman, I have been one my entire life, as was my mom, and her mom, and probably her mom’s mom.
I am an animal lover in general, and have no bias particularly for cats, other than familiarity. Dogs are nice enough, though I spent many years terrified of even the tiny yappers, result of a Great Dane who barked in my face after I rode him home. I was three and had decided to pack my things and run away from home when a neighbor saw me, plopped me on his enormous horse-dog, and returned me to my parents. The dog, as I am told, was friendly and saying some version of goodbye when I teared up and ran to my mommy. I was apparently scared of elephants after being indoors with a trumpeting pachyderm at the zoo, but that fear did not linger, perhaps because elephants did not wander freely in St. Louis, unlike dogs, who seemed aggressive as I was out and about. I did get over the fear, although I don’t remember when that changed. I was cornered by a pair of pitbulls while out on a walk in Vermont, and was truly and justifiably terrified (same dogs bit my ex-husband, after all). But one day not so long after that encounter, I realized that I do like dogs. In truth, there have always been dogs I like, and I never disliked them in theory.
Other animals have their appeal, as well. There are stories to come about the raccoons and others.
But cats just seem to find me.
This year, our family tabbies are ever loving and wonderful, and the yard cats (ferals who will not come inside) remain in the heated house I set up for them and wander to the yard for food. Of course, this is an open invitation for more cats, and it was sometime last fall that I first met Thad, or more formally, Sir Thaddeus Grey. Why such a name, you ask? I have no idea, but understood immediately that this was his name. Thad is indeed a knight among cats, his grey faintly striped fur sleek and unblemished. He proved himself to be fierce, and apparently not a visitor, but a homeless creature fighting for love and territory. Thad was starved when he showed up, and he ate heartily, if cautiously. The winter came, and he disappeared at times, but one day, after guilt trips from my daughter, I patiently coaxed him in the back door.
He was terrified, of course. And no, he did not play nice with the tabbies. We shut him off from the others, and shortly after he came in, he escaped. That night, there was a terrible snowstorm. The day after the storm, I cleared paths for the cats to reach their food, and Thad reluctantly came back inside. Well… I say reluctantly, but in truth, he made no efforts again to leave, despite his evident fear. Thad accepted his dinner and hid on top of the china cabinet in our dining room. He hissed a little and batted when I tried to pet him.
One day, I was playing with him with a string toy, and I nudged his ears with the stick. He didn’t mind, and he also did not mind my hand on his ears for a moment. He relaxed, started sleeping lower and lower to the ground, and eventually became an affectionate boy.
He will be neutered soon. Appointments everywhere are booked for months, but I imagine that will calm him somewhat. He likes to be held now and after another month, Thad learned to purr.
It has been about three months now since Thad moved in. The other cats tolerate him begrudgingly, although we have held off on full integration until his hormonal urges dissipate.. Poor kitty. Thad is still afraid of the other cats, despite the fact that he is a good 1/3 to 1/2 times their size. He’s kind of a bruiser, strong, but he either tries to chase the other cats or buries his face in my shoulder when he is around them, so I think he is fully aware that the free meals and warm bed are not to be taken lightly–he has encroached on their space for it, and he seems grateful.
And the tabbies? Strangely, all right, most of the time. This, too, shall pass, I tell them. If Thad cannot get along nicely with them, we will figure something out. The tabbies peek through the French doors to see Thad at times, and they have become a bit friendlier over time.
As for me, I would bring them all in, if they wanted to stay, the cats that wander into our yard and stick close, perhaps abandoned, or never homed. I sometimes think about the creatures that share our lives, these strange inter-special relationships that bring us joy and heartbreak, as love always does. I think of this communication, the language we share, not explicit but understood, a world less cold, a heart less lonely.
juliejames.ink 