Well, it’s time to talk about my cats. Yes, I have cats. Two. I’m not a crazy cat lady. I became a fan of cats by accident. We never had them growing up. My mother never would have abided them; she was a neat freak and the shedding and occasional vomiting would have made her crazy.
We got our first two cats from a couple at our church. They were being transferred to London and could not take the cats with them. They made a tearful plea for someone to take their cats and Jeff and I both came to the conclusion simultaneously and independently that we needed to take their cats. To this day we are not sure why we did it; I only know I am glad we did.
Those two cats are long gone and have been replaced by two more. So now we are intentional cat owners and not accidental, sympathy cat owners. We love our cats. They are easy to care for, can be left alone overnight and even for a weekend in a pinch; they are affectionate and good company. The thing about cats that many people don’t realize is that they have a mind of their own. I believe they are every bit as smart as dogs but they do what they want to do, not what you want them to do. And I admire that in an animal.
Our cats have brought our family together in many ways. We laugh at the silly things they do. We buy cat cards, mugs and t-shirts for each other. We have dressed them in bowties, Santa hats and little cat coats. (Which they hate.) Whenever someone is irritable or upset about something, I tell a story about one of our cats. It is a safe topic that has never failed to break the tension or cheer someone up. Those animals have provided a shared interest and a bond in our family that I will always be grateful for.