Not that this will surprise you, but I love cats. All cats. Okay, not Siamese cats. If you own a Siamese cat, then I apologize if I’ve offended you, but to me they’re sneaky looking and too slick for my taste. I like cats that curl up in your lap, with soft hair you can stroke. I don’t like their claws, necessarily, but that could be because I have multiple scars on my body. Long thin ones, normally caused by me upsetting one of my babies or them wanting attention I’m not ready to give. I’m not too wild about Persian cats, either, because you spend too much time brushing them. I like self-sufficient cats that can clean themselves. Goes back to the scars on my body issue.
There’s a life lesson going around the internet right now. “I’ve learned you can’t baptize a cat.” Duh! Nor can you easily bathe them. Unless you put them in the toilet, close the lid, and flush it like the other idea I saw. I would never do that because I don’t think a blue cat would be that pretty. My favorite cats are yellow tabby cats. We have one that weighs about 300 pounds. That’s the downside of owning a tabby…they like to eat a lot, and if you try to put them on a diet, they’re very adept at stealing food from other cats.
We live with numerous cats. It started out innocently enough. One cat. A yellow tabby. I can’t remember ever not having a yellow tabby cat. When I was in the Air Force, stationed in Omaha, I got transferred to California. So, I packed up my cat and my parrot and we drove to California. They were best friends. The cat used to lie on top of the parrot’s cage. In the car, he would lay on the seat next to the bird. That was some trip. I detoured South through Oklahoma to pick up my grandmother and take her with me. There’s something special about traveling cross country in a car with a cat, a parrot, and a grandmother.
Years later, that same cat moved with me to Texas. He was used to riding in a car by this time, because I would take him to my parent’s farm when I visited them, which was about 90 miles from where I was stationed. My mother wanted me to bring him because there would be a mouse somewhere in the house. My baby always caught them. He wanted me to know he had taken care of the mouse, so he would leave part of a mouse someplace in my room for me to find. Normally on my jeans. A little kitty present for me.
I hadn’t lived in Texas long when he passed away. I immediately went out and bought the replacement kitty at the pound. It’s the perfect place to get babies, because if you don’t get them, they won’t be around long. This time I decided my new cat needed a friend, so I got him a little yellow and white girlfriend. Two cats are no more problem than one and they keep each other company. They will play with each other and not with your stuff. That’s the theory anyway. If you decide that’s a good idea and get a second kitty, you might want to make sure at least one of them is neutered, and you won’t have as much time as you think you will. I found out the hard way and ended up with multiple kitties, which I was thankfully able to find homes for. Eventually a stray showed up outside and, well, three kitties are no more trouble than two. That’s a true statement; but let me warn you. Eight kitties are more trouble than two. I think you reach that point somewhere around having four cats, if not before.
If you’re not a people person, then cats are the ideal pet, because a lot of people are allergic to them. I would hate that! I’d have to get shots, or something were I to suddenly develop an allergy, cause I ain’t giving up my babies. But, since other people are allergic to them, it does keep a lot of unwanted visitors away from your house. Unfortunately, it also keeps friends away, but that’s the price you pay to have furry babies living with you.
One year at CHRISTmas, Vickie, our church’s secretary contacted me. She said the church staff was having a round-robin party and wanted to do soup or something similar at my house. She called me because she knows I’m a good cook, and she also knows I go a little crazy in December. I used to put up about 7 trees, although most of them weren’t decorated too close to the floor, since the cats carry off the ornaments. Since I love her dearly, I readily agreed. What neither of us remembered was the allergy thing. There was so much sneezing and sniffling going on that our pastor was pushing pills. He had enough forethought to bring them with him, and most of the staff ending up taking one. I asked him if he wanted to go outside and pass them out from the trunk of his car, but he declined. So, even if you do have allergic friends, if you make good soup and overdo the decorations, they’ll stay anyway. That’s a good thing.
Someone asked Billy Graham one time if there would be pets in Heaven. I don’t remember his exact answer, but it was very comforting. He said he really believed there would be, since God wanted to give us everything that would make us happy. In my case that would be cats in Heaven.
I think God has a cat. Maybe a yellow tabby since they’re the best, but any kind of a cat. He can probably relate to them better than he can to dogs. God’s attitude towards us is much like a cat’s. He doesn’t come running after us, begging for our attention. He just lets us know He’s there, He loves us, and He’ll be there if we want Him. Cats sense when we’re down and get in our lap to let us know they’re there for us. Kind of like Father sends the gentle reminders that He’s waiting for us to turn to Him when we’re down and feeling lonely.
As I sit here typing this, Sabrina jumped up next to me. If I pet her, she’ll immediately start to purr. I know she will, because she always does. I can count on her, just like I can count on Father. So, until I get to Heaven where I know there’ll be a bunch of kitty babies waiting to greet me, I’ll be perfectly content down here, knowing I am unconditionally loved by God and by my kitties. In the long run, it just doesn’t get any better than this.