Try as I might to conjure up some positives for this series, the images fail me greatly. Perhaps because, in the moment, they seemed positive, but in hindsight - not so much. I don't know.
Shortly after we were married, we adopted a cat. I think I was the primary impetus for that, but I'll share the credit, since the cat clung to her immediately, and to me eventually.
In March, after six months of marriage and seemingly devoid of adding a human child to the fold, we decided to go to the local Animal Shelter to find a cat to make our lives complete.
I focused on a 7-year-old who had attracted my attention. Meanwhile, a tiny black kitten had clung himself to her sweater, refusing to give-in. "OK, I guess we'll take him."
"Well - what about this guy?" I asked as I peered into his furtive glance.
"No. Just one."
I had to say goodbye to the old man who had won my heart. It wasn't the first time that I had to give-in to something that had won my heart - and it wouldn't be the last.
So, OK - we now have an 8-week-old kitten running around the place. As with many things, it became my job to take him to the vet for his first visit. Being non-committal parents, we hadn't decided on a name, and didn't figure we needed one. When the vet asked for his name for their records, I sputtered out "K.C." We had been calling him "Kitty Cat," and I didn't want to look like a total jackass, so I came up with initials to make him seem like more of an outlaw than a Gen-X cat.
K.C. would become a vital part of our household. We shared feeding and playing duties, although she was more of the player and I was more of the feeder - whatever. The cat was happy.
We allowed him to go outdoors, which is usually verboten. All he would do was go downstairs and sit under a bush waiting for squirrels or birds to spy on. He was always inside for the evenings.
When she left, KC hung by the front door. "She's not coming back," I told him - but he persisted. Eventually, he became my cat because - well - cats are like that. We bonded because, well, it was his home and he had no choice - and I loved him and took care of him until his last day.
We never had any children, and never discussed having children. We discussed adopting a cat for weeks on end, but never a child. That's odd, eh?
A bit odd as well that two people could be married for six years and not have any children. It was due to both diligence and negligence. You see, she dutifully took her birth control pills for the first four years or so. Once the sex appeal left our marriage, so did the diligence of the pills. I used to check the medicine cabinet and saw that she had missed several days each week. I never asked why, but since she was not interested in me sexually, I knew that the point was moot.
As it turned out, KC would outlive our marriage by several years. I've written about him many times here, and the links can be found easily.
Cats and dogs are loyal to a fault. We come home in various moods and stages of discontent or happiness, and their response is always the same. Happy to see us. There's a lesson someplace, although many fail to see it. It isn't the person that changes - it's their circumstances. The circumstances don't matter as much as the person, but the person loses out.
Times get tough, and people bail. The cat stays. He stays because he knows where his home is. It wasn't chosen for him, but he stays because it is home.
Our opposable thumbs give us the opportunity to turn doorknobs and leave something that challenges us. It also gives us the opportunity to lock ourselves into something and try to make it work, because it is home.
Perhaps it depends on who is buying the food? I don't know, but I wish that people were more like cats.
Cats appreciate me.
No comments:
Post a Comment