There Ya Go
Growing up, I was never really fond of felines. In fact, when I was about 10, my big sister, Sissa, brought home a stray. My mom shurgged her shoulders in veiled approval. My dad went outside to work with Duke, his beloved golden retriever.
I filled my squirt gun. I looked at the cat as target practice. Armed with a chamber full of tap water, I would chase the poor thing around the house like it was the enemy. This cat did nothing to deserve that. After a few battles, it was scared of everyone. No, I didn’t coin the phrase “gun shy.”
For some reason, I can’t imagine why, it wasn’t much of a pet. The thing was always hiding. I couldn’t figure it out. He eventually got outside — OK, escaped — and we never saw him again.
That was the last time I shared a house with a cat until Olivia talked me into getting Rosie about 20 years ago. No, I didn’t torment Rosie. I was actually pretty nice to her, but one day, she wandered out somewhere on the farm and never came back.
Before she left, however, Olivia had talked me into getting what at the time was a second cat and we named her Kitten. I know, original. My daughter was about the same age I was when Sissa brought her cat home so long ago.
Kitten died last Tuesday night.
Now, I grew up around dogs, mostly golden retrievers, obviously the best breed out there. I used to breed goldens, keeping one from each litter, so during the 30-plus years I’ve lived in my current house, I’ve always had a golden.
Yes, I am a dog person. However, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, is that just because you’re a dog person doesn’t mean you can’t learn to love cats.
And I really did love Kitten. Maybe “love” is a bit strong, but I was very fond of her. Dog or cat, animals are part of your family, and when they’re around for as long as Kitten was, you get used to them.
Cats can be a pain in the butt, and Kitten had some bad habits. Is it normal for a cat to spread kitty litter all over except for her little box? I swear I saw her carrying around clumps of litter in a small pail one day.
Another cute thing she did was dig her food out of her bowl and onto kitchen floor. Why do this? The food that she scraped out of the bowl became free game for my dogs, so I didn’t have to clean that up, but still. Why do this? What’s the point?
But with all of her faults, I think she liked me. With cats, it’s hard to tell. It seems they’ll let you pet them when they’re ready, and only
when they’re ready. Also, if they want to sit on your belly, you’d better let them, even though they might try to ruin a shirt or two with their front claws.
So I found myself feeling pretty sad last Tuesday night. I love animals, and when your pet dies, it’s tough, no matter if you’re a kid or an adult. I didn’t tear up like I do when I lose a dog, but that doesn’t make me a monster. It’s just that my bond with my dogs has always been stronger.
Still, there was someting there. When I go home after a long day now, I don’t see my cat sitting on the breakfast counter when I open the door. I don’t hear her mutter a barely-audible “meow” when I walk in, as if to say “hi, welcome home” (or, “where the hell have you been, I want milk, and not that watered down crap — 2%.”).
Will I get another cat? My family has asked me that already. Not sure. Dog or cat, many of you know that you can never really replace a pet, so I’m on the fence on this one. Kitten was a helluva mouser, and that has come in handy living out in the country. But can I exepct a new cat to hunt like she did? Can I trust a new cat?
And will I need to buy a new squirt gun?
