Sometimes I am overcome with this feeling of love for my cat. Which strikes me as a bit strange since I always considered myself a dog person.
And I had a dog. For fourteen beautiful years and then she died, and we put off getting another one, and in the meantime this little cat moved in.
And it wasn’t like we saw him and thought ‘aw we should get a cat.’ He literally just moved in. We had very little choice in the matter.
It turns out he was a neighbours cat, and they went on holiday without making proper arrangements for him to be fed and looked after in their absence. So he went wandering, and stumbled into my house, where he had proper food and a warm lap to snooze on and decided to keep coming back. His owners returned from holiday, tried to take him home, and within thirty minutes he was back at out cat flap (off the previous owner of our house). And they only lived over the back fence of our back garden. Two houses away. He wasn’t lost.
So eventually they stopped coming, and they got two new cats, and this little muffin became ours.
And it’s still quite weird to me. Often, I’ll ask my Mam ‘how did we get a cat?’
And it’s been a learning curve. Cats are so different from dogs, but it’s been very rewarding.
People say that humans are cats slaves, and they’re so cold, and unaffectionate, but they’re not.
I agree that he has us wrapped around his little bean, but he loves a cuddle and chin tickle and to warm his paws on your lap after he’s been out in the cold. He likes to sleep in the same room as where you are, and keep an eye on what you’re doing, and he’s a little shit during the night when he’ll just meow and meow and meow and meow. And meow. He loves to watch TV, especially if there’s a good cat documentary on. Sometimes, I just watch him when he’s snoozing and feel incredibly grateful and blessed that it was our house he wandered into, and in our lives he’s decided to stay