Headed for Sixty ... and thinking like a CAT?

OK everyone ... please stop grimacing and ... no ... wait ... don't throw things. Surely you knew this was coming. I love my critters. I love other people's critters. I love all types of critters. But I've had a cat in my life for as long as I can remember. Thomas was my first cat love and he endured moving from Arkansas to Louisiana to Texas and remained my best friend for years. After Thomas ... well ... I don't know.  There were so many cats with names as varied as Maestro, Dixie, Rastas, Happy (ahhh, yes, he was a magnificent cat), Nugget (as in Cat McNugget ... get it?), Angel, Chubbie, and the current two: Rosie and Goldie. They were all different but shared one thing in common ... they knew they were unusual and special.

If you've ever been the personal attendant to a cat, you understand what I mean. Cats know that they are NOT average critters. In fact, cats probably resent me calling them critters. I do that simply because it annoys them and because it's easier than saying, "The cats and the dogs need ____". I can simply say I need to feed the critters, give the critters water, brush the critters, take the critters to the vet, etc. There is no doubt in my mind that I've insulted the cats by grouping them with the dogs. But really, what are they going to do? They don't have opposable thumbs so they're limited in their attempts at retaliation.

I once had a birthday card that said "Cats know how you feel ... they just don't care." Well, in most cases, that is true. My cats pretty much are of the impression that I was put on this earth to care for them. They may "act" attentive and suck you in, but once you're hooked, they go back to their attitude of, "Yes, I'm pretty, now care for me." The current elder cat is a prime example. She arrived on my patio without invitation and was, well let me put this delicately, great with kitten. She took up residence in the "Dogloo" that we kept on our patio just in case the dog should ever want to sleep in it. HA! However, around that time, we were having an abundance of rain and our back yard flooded. I looked out one evening to see Rosie in the Dogloo and the the silly plastic doghouse was floating by the door. Seriously, what was I to do? I threw open the door, reached out and pulled the floating dog house over and invited the little pregnant thing into the house. Not having a timid bone in her body, she came right in.  Later, Rosie joined me when I went to bed. She was so grateful to me and couldn't contain her purring to show me her devotion (or that's what I believed at the time).  Most likely, she was just singing because she was warm and dry and had found the ultimate sucker.  Her purring was so loud, I had difficulty sleeping.

She had me hooked! The next morning, I set up a little birthing suite in our office and left her there in case the blessed event should come during the day. We continued this routine for a little over a week UNTIL ... Dennis needed in the office after I had left that morning and Rosie escaped. Being the wonderful, wise person he is, he decided that she wouldn't have her kittens that day and left her roaming in the house. That evening, I came in to a strange noise ... the ever so tiny mewing of a newborn kitten.  It was a tiny little cream colored kitten.  

Wonder of wonders ... I've never witnessed birth when I wasn't the one doing the pushing so I set up camp right outside of Dennis' closet (oh yes she did ... that was her way of thanking him for leaving her loose in the house) and watched as she gave birth to another little cream baby.  At that point, I was hoping she was through, but of course, you know she wasn't.  Along comes a gray baby and another cream kitten. She seemed to be through so I decided to give her some privacy and go watch a little TV.

After a while, during a commercial break, I decide to go and see how Momma cat and her little family were doing ... and they were fine.  Unfortunately, there were newcomers that weren't there when I left.  Another gray baby and a little orange kitten had made an arrival.


Fast forward four years and here I am ... and Rosie and the little orange surprise are vital components in my life.

Now lest you think that the other babies aren't loved, I assure you that each was given a wonderful home.  The three cream babies (who by 4 weeks of age had developed Siamese markings) were taken by our wonderful veterinarian who gave two to her mother-in-law and one to her niece.  The two little gray babies went to live with one of my co-workers and are loved and pampered as cats believe they should be.

I simply had to keep Rosie because she was so affectionate and devoted to me (remember the loud purring).  HA ... she was such a great actress.  Aloof ... this cat defines the word. Despite all of that, Rosie is a great cat but as you can see from her photo, she thinks she rules the world.

As for the little orange surprise, she was a surprise to our vet as well.  It seems that orange/yellow cats are typically male and it is unusual for females to be colored that way. So with a vet tech and two veterinaries agreeing that this kitten is definitely female, very unusual and more than a little bit special, I decided that she should just stay with me.  Unfortunately, she heard all this fuss about how "unusual" and "special" she is and now she expects royal treatment.

So now, how does this all relate to my grand scheme to enjoy the road to sixty in a full and wonderful way?  Oh, I am so very glad you asked. I have realized that just like my cats, I am unusual. I am a special creation. Everyone isn't going to treat me that way and I shouldn't care whether they do, but when I look in the mirror, I know. Trust me, I really know.