My mother was right: We two-legged animals can learn a lot from loving a four-legged one
Holly, the cat: in kitten hood; hiding in the ferns; relaxing in her dotage One year ago on this date, I arrived for the last time at my mother’s in Edmonton. She died three weeks later at the age of 95-and-a-half, after a long and good life. I’ll write more about my mother’s death another time; today, I am writing to celebrate a different long and good life — this one belongs to Holly, our feline companion who turns the equivalent of 84-human-years old today. I hesitate to call myself her ‘owner’; anyone who has ever had any kind of relationship with a cat knows full well that we don’t own them. We share our house and our heart with them and, if we are lucky, they return our love and affection with something akin to acceptance. Having grown up with cats as the family pet, I tried to branch out once I had my own place. In the early 1980s, I tried to share my life and home with a dog, but it was not a happy experience — for either of us. I did not understand how to relate to a dog...