Yes, we are going to talk about those furry little creatures that have nestled themselves into our lives.
Apparantly cats are domesticated. They domesticated themselves, much smarter than dogs, because now they don’t have to work anymore for their food. (fact of the day).
I have had cats all my life, as recently as one year ago.
I don’t have any cats anymore at the moment, but my most enjoyable moments, have been with cats in my life. My greatest teachers have been my female cat Pitoesh and Cyrus. Pitoesh was the cat I got when I was 12. I was just transitioning to high school and it was a big change. I was deeply insecure about myself and needed routine, and it helped greatly that everyday when I was getting ready for school, this female cat came sitting in front of me to have her pets for that day and she would wait at the corner of the table when I was back, to be petted again. I loved that cat. She wanted to give birth of her first litter on my bed, but I didn’t allowe that (although her water broke on my bed) and 3 healthy kittens came from that nest. I was allowed to keep one.
Her second litter she waited until I came back from a night out (I don’t know how long she was in labour already, but she kept them in until I was home). These gave me three healthy kittens again, and I was allowed only one of these as well, and the one of the other litter, because my mom decided to bring my mother cat Pitoesh and 2 kittens to a farm. She never told me where and when I got home from school I never saw her again. I didn’t know that day before school would be the last day I would see that little cat and her 2 little kittens.
A few months after that my dad decided to take over the german shepherd of my sister and my 2 other cats had to go too. I had to put them in the street. I was still allowed to feed them, but they weren’t allowed in the house anymore. The grey tiger cat Pruts, I saw only a couple of times after that. Rumy, the bigger red tiger I saw a few years still, until I didn’t see him anymore. I don’t know what became of these two, just like their mother.
A few years after that, when I got my second german shepherd Daffy, I went to a friend to get pain medication, because my wisdom teeth were giving me a lot of pain and a small kitten came over to me. His cat had just given birth a couple of weeks before to a nest of kittens and one was curious and came over.
I picked it up and clinged to it immediatly. Although my mom wasn’t enthousiastic about it at first, she allowed me to keep it. My friend was happy to see one of his litter go to a good home.
Cyrus was with me for about 4 years, until his tragic car accident. He was a stubborn one, and one that taught me how to read his body language, like I can do now a bit with his human counterparts as well. Cyrus was one of those cats that wouldn’t his or growl. He would strike when he had enough and you had to read his tail, until that moment would happen. He was one of the easiest going cats and never complained or threw a hissy fit about anything. He had a litter box for the nights, but hardly ever used them. He was king of the castle, even my much bigger german shepherd didn’t dare to fight with him (after that faitfull boxing match of Cyrus versus Daffy at the corner of the table. I rule it a knockout in the first round).
I got 2 boys after that. 2 black ones. 2 brothers. Marvelous set. I got them from the shelter a week after Cyrus died. I was so grief strucken that the only thing that would get me over him, was to get a new pet immediatly. Blacky and speedy became mine. I renamed them because Speedy wasn’t speedy at all. He became Vlekkie (translated to English it would become Spot, because he had a white spot amidst his black fur on his chest). Blacky, the indeed black one of the two, became Shadow, because he used to follow me everywhere and was the most clingy of the two, although both of them were very cuddly.
My fondest memory of them, was waking up with the two of them on my bed. Vlekkie at the back, at my feet, and Shadow under the cover, with his head on my pillow with his paw in my neck, as if he was cuddling me.
When my girlfriend moved in with me, we became a joint family. Her 2 cats joined in as well. Bougie (a large mix between main coon and european short hair) and a small black with beautiful orange eyes called Ezra (Queen Ezra was her nickname because she did what she liked and reprimanding her didn’t help. But she was so cute and innocent).
Ezra was a cat that was shy of men. I used to do pickup therapy with her, where I would hold her for a few minutes and kept extending it, whenever I could pick her up. She allowed me, although briefly and never really struggled to get free.
The last day we had her, she was very, very cuddly and I used this to really, really pet her, because I knew I had to let her go after that day forever. Although Bougie was my girlfriends cat, he listened better to me, and became a real friend. When his favourite spot broke (the top of the cat pole) I fixed it, and he was so happy that within 2 minutes of fixing it, he was already back on his spot. My favourite memory of the four is seeing them enjoying a frozen water bottle where they would lie next to in peek summer temperatures. My girlfriend and me would freeze water bottles especially for the cats to lie next to, so they would not get overheated. All cats stayed stationary next to these water bottles.
Now I don’t have any pets anymore and I really notice how much love and attiontion I got from these animals. I really miss taking one on my lap and giving him or her my full attention. Really enjoying the purrs or enjoying seeing them eat their meals, or try to get some of mine (sometimes I gave them the last piece of my meat, because they were such good cats).
Being poor sucks, otherwise I would have a furry friend in my life. Now I have to be content with some that I do meet and can pet, but that are not my companions.
The picture above are my 2 brothers, Vlekkie and Shadow approximately a year before I had to let them go.