I’ve never been a cat person.
Now, before all of you cat fanciers, cat lovers, cat worshipers jump all over me, let me explain.
First, I am allergic to cats. Over the years I have broken out in hives, had my eyes swell shut and developed a cough when I’ve been too long in the presence of the furry felines.
Secondly, I think that cats are snooty. They tend to look at you like you are beneath them and personally, I even think they can put forth a sort of “So, what can you do for me today?” snide sort of expression by squinting their little cat eyes.
I now have a grand-cat.
I have three grand-dogs, whom I love. I take allergy pills when I know I will be around them because sometimes they give me a very mild allergic reaction to them. Oddly, of the two Boxer grand-dogs who are California residents, one can lick me all over my face and hands and invoke no physical reaction on my body, but the merest drop of the other one’s saliva gives me huge bumps and maddening itchy rash where his little velvet tongue has shown me affection. Even when I’ve taken an allergy pill. I have no idea why. The third grand-dog lives in New Jersey, so I don’t see him that often, but when I do we seem to be able to co-habitate without me wanting jump in a bath of cortisone.
This new grand-cat has stolen my heart.
He is a “Rag Doll” breed and with their enormous capacity to love, my daughter-in-law and grandsons picked the kitten who was the runt of the litter because they wanted to save him. He is a beautiful, teen tiny ball of fluff with the most incredibly gorgeous eyes and a soulful little meow that is only topped by his constant purring. When they took him to the vet he weighed less than a pound-and-a-half.
Christmas Day he seemed fine in the morning and by mid-afternoon was out-of-sorts. By the time I arrived to have dinner with them the little guy couldn’t stand and was very lethargic in general. Of course, this prompted a phone call to the emergency veterinarian on call and Number One grandson, God bless him, packed up kitty (who has had several names so far, including Milo but still has no permanent moniker) and took him to San Juan Capistrano to see the doctor on call.
They started an IV and began to run some tests on him. There was much texting back and forth as well as phone calls while my daughter-in-law was trying to get Christmas dinner ready. We were all worried about the poor little guy. Personally, I started praying to St. Francis of Assisi, who is, if you didn’t know it, the patron saint of animals. Almost two hours later, grandson returned without the grand-cat, who was trying to rest and was going to be kept overnight for observation.
I am pleased to report as of this writing, he is once again home and hopefully on the mend while they still try to determine what the cause of his sickness was. He’s not out of the woods yet, but I’m hoping he will be soon.
As a result of my new-found affinity for felines, I have asked my daughter-in-law and grandsons, no matter how much I beg and plead, to please not let me get a cat. I don’t know the first thing about them…no idea how to train them, what they eat, etc. I like the idea of a little ball of fur cuddling with me on the couch while I watch TV…however, I am afraid I will become Annoying Neighbor Behind Me and be out on my deck or patio at all hours yelling “Here, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty” or even worse, truly become the stereotypical old maid spinster grandmother/sister/aunt who lives alone and only has cats for companions.
I’m too close to that already.