Day Fifty

Milestone

I made it to day fifty! Fifty straight days of writing. I'm not sure anyone is reading the blog, but I'm enjoying writing it.

It's one of those days. It looks and feels like it's going to rain. The cats are at each other's throats. Rooney is pacing; Jack's on alert. Even Roxy is thumping away in her cage. I hope this isn't an indicator of something like a tsunami or earthquake. I can't swim and I just don't need a natural disaster today.

People look at me funny when I tell them the number of animals living here. I don't care. Either you get it or you don't. Sure, I can't go anywhere. This is a 24-7 responsibility and I guess that's the point. I don't actually want to leave the house. I like it here. I prefer the company of animals to people. People can be unpredictable, self-serving and cruel. Cats have that reputation as well, but really, they are quite loving. (She says after breaking up the fifth cat fight of the morning...) Dogs, on the other hand are, for the most part, the opposite. They live to make you happy. Well, make that "not unhappy."

My son recently asked me if I thought I needed another cat. Just to be clear, he asked me that after the first one. Four cats later, I could easily live with more. I love cats. I don't even mind litter boxes - when they actually use them. I don't care about possessions so scratched furniture doesn't bother me. Let me put it this way. When a cat looks at you and slow-blinks, or curls up on your lap, or sits close to you and purrs, there is no better feeling. Cats don't just automatically fall all over you - they take their time and decide if you are worthy. If deemed so, they let you know.

I just had an "Ah ha" moment. I was thinking about the number of dogs I've lived with over the years, which took me back in time to how it all started for me. My father was an animal lover; mother not so much. His mother was also. Now, here's the irony. I had two German grandmothers. One was a fastidious housekeeper. The other wasn't. One was an animal lover. The other pitched a fit over dogs in the house. Guess which one was the fastidious one? If you guessed the one who didn't like animals you would be wrong. It was the one who kept an immaculate house who also loved animals. Strange, right? The grandmother (my mother's mother) who did not like animals was, herself, a mess. Maybe the thought of another sloppy creature in the house was too much for her to deal with. I have managed to incorporate both of their DNA by being an animal lover as well as a slob.

I don't know why my mind veered off in that direction. Squirrel!! I'm very dog-like in that regard. But there's a good bit of cat in me, too. Like a dog, I like to be needed and helpful. If you're happy, so am I. The cat in me enjoys quiet and solitude. If you piss me off, you will get a warning hiss. If that doesn't work, the claws come out. Speaking of claws, please don't get a cat declawed. It's the equivalent of having the ends of your fingers lopped off.