The Comfort of Cats

I don't think of it as having five cats, I explain to the check out girl at the grocery store, I think of it as not having seven. She gives me a big smile but there's a touch of knowing better in it, as if she thinks I might be completely off my rocker but is too polite to say so. I get this a lot.

This love of cats is a mystery to me. The things that attract me - their independence and aloofness, self confidence and agile minds - are things that attract all cat lovers. I look at their heart shaped faces and their eyes full of curiosity and mischief, and think that this must be God's favorite animal. I drag them off each other and think that I may strangle them. Each evening when I come through the front door, there is an explosion - the dogs howling and wailing to be let out of their kennels and be fed, while the cats stroll quite casually out from wherever they've been sleeping. One by one, like a small but self important parade, they appear and line up by their food dishes, only the littlest one talks and only because he's too young to be able to reach the counter on his own. They eat quietly and delicately, unlike the feeding frenzy the dogs display - then groom themselves and retire, like gentlemen taking their cigars and brandy to the study. I may not see them again until bedtime when some combination will arrive to curl up behind my knees or with the small brown dog on the pillow, others will stay in the shadows til morning. One or two will come and go during the night like wayward lovers but there will always be at least one small, furry body by my side, kneading, purring, taking and giving comfort - I am reassured just by their presence.

There's something about cats that calls to my soul and tugs at my heart, as if I am meant for them and they for me. On my worst day, a kitten can coax a smile out of me, give me a reason to get out of bed, even have just a little more faith. It's hard to say who gets more from these liaisons - as my Cousin Linda recently commented to me, Life is just a bowl of kittens.

Having started the year with seven cats, lost four and gained two, I fear that attrition is not working quite as I planned. Resolution and good intentions simply can't overcome fuzzy, blue eyed furballs or sweet faced half grown kittens in trees.

There are two means of refuge from the misery of life - music and cats.
Albert Schweitzer