OK, I am a little nervous about writing this post, for I am about to declare my intense love for my cats.
I love them. I truly do.
Now, I joke in my blog profile about becoming the crazy neighborhood cat lady as being a goal of mine.
I just didn’t anticipate that it would happen so soon
I’ve always loved cats. We had a lot of them in my childhood home. In fact, somewhere there is picture of me at seven years of age, sitting on my bed surrounded by six cats, and I am absolutely beaming with happiness.
Except for a few years in college, I have always had cats. I married a non-cat person, and converted him immediately. He loved cats, especially my current cat, Zelda. Then he left. Hey, I can understand leaving your wife, but your cat? Never.
Anyway, in August, when my sons left for college and HOB left for his new life, I was left alone in the house except for these two precious cats of mine.
Now, I suspect it is this way for a lot of people who find they are living alone after the kids years of after a mate leaves, but I don’t just love my cats. I adore them. I depend on them.
They greet me when I get home from work. They sit with me as I eat my dinner. When I grade papers at the table, Mabel lolls around on the rug near my feet and Zelda climbs on a chair across from me, occasionally coming up to check out an essay and give her feedback.
When I climb into bed at night, they come with me. In the morning when I read my newspaper in bed, Zelda sits on my right side and Mabel sits on my left and I sit there in the middle, feeling like the Queen of Suburbia. They balance me as they sit on either side of me, and I feel their solid weight. I stroke their soft fur and am overwhelmed with gratitude for their company.
Mabel is the more practical cat. She enjoys affection, but I have to come to her, unless I am watching TV and then she climbs up on my lap and stays until my leg goes numb and I have to move her or risk permanent nerve damage. (See bottom picture and you’ll understand.)
Zelda, however, is the sweetheart who seeks out affection and returns it twofold. Incredibly, she senses when I am having a restless night. Even at 2:00 a.m. when I start tossing and turning, she comes up from her nest at the foot of the bed and nudges her way into my arms, until her body is snuggled against mine, her head in the crook of my arm. She stays there and comforts me until I fall back asleep.
These cats have become so dear to me. Let’s face it: I was not done nurturing when my house emptied out, and so I turned my attention to the remaining mammals.
As I said before, I suspect many people find that their pets get more important as they get older. I know it’s happening here, in a big way.
And just as soon as I get my little darlings to stay in their “Little House on the Prairie” outfits I have carefully made for them, we will rehearse the play we have planned for the neighborhood children and then we’ll have a nice tea party together.
OK, OK, It hasn't come to that just yet.
I was just joking.
Did you think I was serious?
Of course we won’t have tea.
We’ll have milk instead.
Tea might stain the little white monogrammed bibs I’ve made for them.
Tea instead of milk? Now, that's just crazy.