A Post a Day in May #19: Love Story in Five Cats

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I have pledged to write a new post for this blog every day in May. 

I grew up with cats. Well, actually, with one cat: Tigger, a grey tabby. He moved back and forth across the Atlantic with us, as Dad’s career took us between Canada, Germany and England. My own adult love for cats started with Bountiful, an orange tabby whom I adopted while living in Halifax. 

For the record, I’ve tried living with a dog, but I failed miserably at the training stage, and the relationship never developed satisfactorily, for either of us. I’ve stuck with cats ever since. 

Bountiful, or Bounty for short, was my first. He lived to 18 years and 4 months, and I thought I would never love another cat as I loved him. He was so small when I got him that he could fit in the palm of my hand. He grew into a handsome fellow who was loving with adults and patient with kids; even people who didn't like cats would realize that they liked Bounty. Cats: They can be persuasive. 
Bountiful the Beautiful

Before Bounty died, Blanco walked, quite literally, into our lives. One day I noticed a white cat eating something in the back yard; I said to Val, "Hey, there's a white cat in the yard!" "Yes," she replied, "I'm feeding him." Ah. I was the last to know about this new family member! He won me over and I ended up taking care of him with his kidney disease for the last two months of his life, while Val was in India. He stayed alive long enough for her to return, but then we put him down. Cats: They can worm their way into your heart. 

Blanco, the friendly white stray
After Blanco, I said No. More. Cats. Enough! 

I lasted six weeks, and then Val caved, and then we headed to the Humane Society to find two cats — one for each of us. This is how Lewis and Holly came into our lives. Lewis must have been part Abyssinian, for he was sleek and sophisticated, about four years old. Holly was just eight months, not sophisticated at all. She wanted to play, Lewis did not. He wanted to get outside, but Val was determined to make him an indoor cat. And that worked, more or less, for a while: I would take him for walks on a leash, at which he was amazing. He must have had dogs in his previous life, because he would nose up to any dog we met, any size, to sniff them out and say hello. Sadly, Lewis was hit by a car. Cats: They can break your heart. 

Lewis, the dapper one

Before I get to Holly, I must introduce Chester. The neighbours across the street had befriended him and told us it was our turn to take in the new stray on the block. He was so gorgeous and, eventually, so friendly, and we took him in. He was a big orange love-bug, who was a generous lap cat, but his favourite time was night time — outside. There was no keeping him indoors, and we knew that taking him to the cottage would be the end of us and our nerves, even if it wasn’t the end of him. After much debate and heartache, we sent him off with a friend to live on her parents’ farm. Cats: They can be challenging to live with. 
Chester, the big orange love

Holly, named after Audrey Hepburn’s character in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, is now ten years old and we are definitely her support staff; she has us wrapped around her little paw, as it were. She is well trained and comes in willingly at end of the day — no night-time escapades for her, even at the cottage. Sure, she’s stayed out beyond her curfew a few times and caused us great anxiety, but she has always, to date, sashayed her way down the driveway in her own good time, as much as to say, You really shouldn’t have worried, but I knew you'd miss me, so I’ve come home. Sheesh. Cats: They know how to keep you on your toes. 

Holly, still going strong

We are clear that Holly will be our last indoor/outdoor cat. Should another come into our lives, it will have to be content to live indoors. Partly because the out-of-doors dangers are too great for them, but mostly because domestic cats are just too predatory and the bird population is being decimated by them. Cats: They’ll overrun the world if we let them. 

Thanks for reading. 

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Comments

  1. FintaMay 19, 2019 at 7:30 AM

    Having started out with five cats, Isadora, Joey, Lila, Lucy and Ethel, and having back filled with Archie, Gracie, and Sam the Serial Killer, we are down to one, our Eliot. She has 24 toes, evenly divided, and she is so named because she once was thought to be male, was called Elliot with two Ls. We dropped an L when we adopted her, a la George Eliot. Seemed appropriate. She would so like to go outside, but we have a strict indoor cats only policy, after all those years of Sam the Serial Killer roaming the neighborhood and murdering voles and chipmunks for his meals.

    We also have two very small, very sweet, very well disciplined, very non-shedding dogs. You might like them. They were raised by cats, and they lick their paws and clean their faces each evening.

    ReplyDelete
  2. PamelakatMay 19, 2019 at 7:34 PM

    So nice to hear the story of your cats, Amanda. You've made me count the number of cats I have had since the age of 13, and it is ten. In all of those years, I have NEVER been without a cat in my home, usually more than one. There was a dog at one time as well - small, long-haired, and as close to a cat as a dog can get.

    ReplyDelete
  3. MargueriteMay 19, 2019 at 9:37 PM

    Bear, Mickey, Lulu and now Archie. All indoor outdoor. Bear (19) left this world while I was at basic training. I never got to say goodbye but Mel did an amazing job with the hospice.

    Mickey and Lulu met a fate we are fairly sure is the coyote.

    Archie...….well he was a colony cat (50) who ended up in the SPCA. He wormed his way into our hearts and he does his best to meets his evening curfew. Mel does not sleep until he hears the cat door's whoppa whoppa and at that time he rushes to put the slide in door before Archie can dash out again.

    As for the other four legged in our household my "Big Handsome Guy" Stylish Scotto Bar is a registered American Quarter Horse who if I could I would let him sleep on the bed too.

    ReplyDelete

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