I grew up in a family without any real pets. Definitely no cats. They were considered a bother more than anything, neighborhood annoyances that used our sandbox as a giant litter tray. In fact, my grandfather was said to of gone out of his way to hit cats with his car. I think they got into his chicken coop.
My sisters and I could of had pets, but the rule was that we had to take care of them, and that was enough to dissuade us. When my wife Dawn wanted to get cats, I told her the same thing, and she pressed ahead undaunted, having cared for them in the past.
We went to a shelter down the street from our house, where they had a litter of kittens available. They brought out two of them, gave one to each of us, and I was handed Porter. (I was into beer brewing at the time, and I named her after the dark beer of the same name) She batted at the chin braids I wore back then and my heart melted and it was pretty much all over.
She could be a stinker, and cause trouble, but whenever I would keep to a schedule, she'd be waiting at the bedroom door whenever I woke up. She figured out what doorknobs were and tried to open the door if I didn't come out. Dawn said if I slept in, as soon as Porter heard me wake up she'd purr with excitement and run downstairs to see me. Dawn fed the cats, there wasn't any reason for her to act like this other than that she apparently liked me. Anytime I'd let her, if she was in the same room that I was during her daily migration around the house that cats do, she'd be in my lap, or resting her head against me, or would just sit on a piece of my clothing somewhere near me. I didn't let her sit on my lap as often as she would of liked, as I had work to do and she slowed me down, and now I feel terrible about it.
And now that she's gone, there's no more jiggling of the doorknob when I'm supposed to be up, or purring in my lap, or a black shape in the corner of my eye dropping earplugs next to me for me to throw and play fetch with.
There's an old part of me that says it's just a dumb ol' cat, and I shouldn't be upset, but the rest knows that she was a dear, dear friend, and I'm going to miss her very much.
My sisters and I could of had pets, but the rule was that we had to take care of them, and that was enough to dissuade us. When my wife Dawn wanted to get cats, I told her the same thing, and she pressed ahead undaunted, having cared for them in the past.
We went to a shelter down the street from our house, where they had a litter of kittens available. They brought out two of them, gave one to each of us, and I was handed Porter. (I was into beer brewing at the time, and I named her after the dark beer of the same name) She batted at the chin braids I wore back then and my heart melted and it was pretty much all over.
She could be a stinker, and cause trouble, but whenever I would keep to a schedule, she'd be waiting at the bedroom door whenever I woke up. She figured out what doorknobs were and tried to open the door if I didn't come out. Dawn said if I slept in, as soon as Porter heard me wake up she'd purr with excitement and run downstairs to see me. Dawn fed the cats, there wasn't any reason for her to act like this other than that she apparently liked me. Anytime I'd let her, if she was in the same room that I was during her daily migration around the house that cats do, she'd be in my lap, or resting her head against me, or would just sit on a piece of my clothing somewhere near me. I didn't let her sit on my lap as often as she would of liked, as I had work to do and she slowed me down, and now I feel terrible about it.
And now that she's gone, there's no more jiggling of the doorknob when I'm supposed to be up, or purring in my lap, or a black shape in the corner of my eye dropping earplugs next to me for me to throw and play fetch with.
There's an old part of me that says it's just a dumb ol' cat, and I shouldn't be upset, but the rest knows that she was a dear, dear friend, and I'm going to miss her very much.
posted by Steven Sanders | 8:17 AM
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