In Defense Of Cats
Friday, February 10, 2012 at 11:22PM
Notes from a dog person.
I’ve never really cared much for cats.The typical cat’s standoffish attitude bothers me. Along with their ability to jump anywhere they please and tear up your place and belongings.
It was in the early 90’s my hatred of cats really blossomed when I went to visit my sister in law on Plum Island, MA. On one of my rare trips away from home sans children I was prepared to stay up too late, drink too much wine, go to bed alone, read until I could no longer hold my eyes open and get up whenever I damn well pleased.
The setting was a small ocean front beach house (even if it was off season).All went pretty much according to plan. We did as we pleased and gloried in having a weekend without any babies, children or men around.
Then there was her cat. I was determined to block his presence out of my mind. I remember him as a nasty old tom cat. I think his name was Topaz. I don’t really remember what he looked like but what I clearly remember is his urinating all over the clothes in my suitcase which I had left open on the bed. That pungent smell is pretty hard to forget.
To make it worse, my dear sister in law was a denier. As she held him in her arms, stroking him, “Oh no, I can’t believe Topaz would do that. He’s never done that before”. He turned his head to gaze into the eyes of his accuser as if saying, “take that bitch”.
The war between me and her stinking cat was on. I tried to ignore him the rest of the visit but if he bugged me I’ll admit I took some perverse pleasure in shoving him out of the way with more vigor than necessary. He received a fair share of having his ass booted under the table as I sipped my tea and smiled up top.
My bias against cats had been solidified. I had successfully deflected all pleas for a kitten of their own from my many daughters, who could otherwise talk me into pretty much anything. “Absolutely not. They are disgusting”.
Flash forward a decade. We had moved to Texas and things were not going smoothly. My youngest daughter can be quite persistent and using every ounce of emotional capital she could muster she wore me down. Now that I am old it is easier to do. She had found out about a program through Austin Pets Alive where she could foster kittens until they were old enough to be adopted and she was determined to participate.
We got the call last May, we were supposed to pick up 2 kittens, about 4 weeks old and care for them for 2-4 weeks then return them to the adoption center. OK. I was emphatic, “we are NOT keeping any”.

We arrived at the center and were given instructions on how to care for these little “gruel babies”. Instead of 2, there were actually 4 waiting for us to pick them up. Holy mother, how do I allow myself to be roped into these situations?
We got home and opened the crate door. Inside were 4 scrawny, weary 4 week old kitties. There were two brothers for one litter, and a brother and sister from another litter. We devoted 1 bathroom as their nursery. Their care consisted of being fed 4 times a day. We were to provide some dry kitten food, water and gruel ( a mixture of canned kitten food, heated up with water ) and some medication.
Igor weighing in
To make sure they were all gaining weight, we had to weigh them morning and night on my kitchen scale. The smallest kitten, the only female was particularly vulnerable. We were to call if she lost more than 10 grams.

We weren’t at all sure how our 130 pound dog was going to take to them. These creatures were so tiny he could have probably swallowed them whole if he took a notion to gobble one up. We tried to keep them separated but a few times when he wandered into kitten land he didn’t seem to have much interest in them. Our theory was he instinctively knew they were babies.
I had to keep reminding myself how much I hated cats as we cared for these little guys. After training up many puppies over the years I was amazed how these itty bitty kitties just “knew” how to step into the little make shift litter box to go potty. They even scratched the litter over their own little mess before exiting the box.
They weren’t very happy about being still enough to be weighed. I decided to use a tupperware bowl on top of the kitchen scale to keep them put long enough. We fretted over the smallest 2 not gaining weight consistently. I kept saying, “ I don’t know nothing about raising no cats”. But as a OB nurse and mother of 6 I knew about human babies.
Hailey carrying Veruca
We fed the smallest kitty separately, so the others could not push her out of the way or bully her. Then I took to carrying her around a lot. Sometimes we’d tuck her in our big sweatshirt pockets. The rest of the family teased me when they saw the pictures on facebook. “Oh, what happened to the woman who hated cats”? All that I can say in my defense is I had to get this kitten to gain some weight.
Morning armful of kittens
Well the weeks went by and the little fur balls proved to be quite entertaining. They climbed, they grew, they chased, they slept curled up with each other or any other warm body who sat still long enough. Despite my bigoted ideology against cats in general, they all developed distinct personalities. Igor was the big lug but very pretty. Mr Wilson was the independent and intellectual type. Victor was just plain sweet, cuddly and adventurous. Then there was Veruca (her name from the shelter) We tried on a new name every week for her. Peanut, Oprah, Sookie and Precious. We were pretty sure she was a special needs kitten.

After we had them 4 weeks, I realized that when the doorbell rang they often beat the dogs to greet who ever was at our door. Now that is saying something considering they were about 800 grams and my big dog was 130 pounds. I started placing Craigslist and local ads to find homes for them. I now couldn’t imagine taking the babies, I mean kitties back to the shelter. We likened it to taking your foster baby back to fend for itself in a crowded orphanage.
Especially not my baby kitty, the one I drug around with me all day until she was big and strong enough to fend for herself. School ended in June and we prepared for a summer long road trip. There was a lot of fretting over what we could do with the 2 kittens who still didn’t have homes. Keeping more than one was way out of the question, did you ever see how much cat pooh multiple kittens can produce each day?
Finally the day came when we had to follow through on our arrangement to take the 2 brothers to another foster home. I claimed to be too busy to take them myself. I made my 19 year old drive them over there...I don’t like big scenes. The girls returned home with long faces.
We picked up Veruca and Victor from the infirmary at Austin Pets Alive after they were neutered and spayed and officially adopted. Veruca was ours to keep and Victor was headed for Chicago to live as a big city cat with my daughter and son there.

In spite of dire warnings from cat people, we set out on our 7000 mile summer road trip with Veruca and Victor in tow. Our first stop was Chicago to drop Victor off to his new place. Veruca spent the summer there with her brother while we traveled from state to state.
There, now I have spilled the beans on the cat thing. I don’t want to hear any more blather about it. I'll baby talk to the cat if I want. I'd like to put an end to the speculation that I've gotten so attached to this dumb cat due to the lack of a grandbaby. FYI:I can wait.
I love my kitty, but that doesn’t mean I’ve turned into a cat person.
Snuggling with her brother during a recent visit
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