I Love Cats

I've always been a cat person.  My parents brought home Frankie, our first cat when I was 5 years old and even though he was really just my Mom's cat, I loved that he was there.  Frank lived 18 years before we had to have him put to sleep.  After Frank came John, tiny little black fluff ball we got from the Humane Society.  John turned out to be a giant cat...he's now a very healthy 17lbs.  He's a Burmese, which the vet says is a "big" breed, but doesn't stop people from coming to my parents house and exclaiming "WHOA! THAT'S A BIG CAT!"  


Something that drives me absolutely crazy is when people say "I hate cats."  Really?  Hate?  Hate is a really strong word.  One that should be reserved for things like terrorism, Celine Dion music, clowns, cancer, or that film that builds up on your bathtub when you have hard water.  But cats?  They're animals!  Sure, some cats can be real assholes.  I'm not doubting that.  But by and large, to hate a whole species is pretty stupid.   I don't hate cats.  In fact, I love them.  Most cats are pretty cool.  There are some, like my old roommate's cat, Whitney Houston that are more challenging than others.  Whitney is a little firecracker of sass--if you sat at the computer too long, she'd come over and start gnawing on your toes...or if you were sleeping too late and she didn't like that, she'd very casually go knock over a plant.  

Mavis likes to be involved.

Mavis & Wanda are my cats.  I was stupid enough to bring Mavis home from the Humane Society when my roommate and I were living together.  With Whitney Houston.  Who clearly wanted to be dominant over everyone, including poor little 1.8lb Mavis.  It is because of Whitney Houston that Mavis is the docile, scardey cat that she is.   Don't get me wrong...when there's no strangers in the house and there's no loud noises or bags rustling, or wind blowing, Mavis is a total lover.  She likes to be involved.  She likes to spend time with you, and she loves laps and naps.  Most especially naps on laps.


After roomate moved out, I adopted Wanda.  Wanda is her own special flavor of crazy.  When people say they hate cats, typically they're talking about the Wanda's of the world.  Wanda is really just MY cat.  She's bossy, aggressive, dominant and a little bit wacko.  From day1 with Wanda she was crazy.  The whole way home in the car she struggled to escape and tried to viciously claw my mom's face off with her tiny little kitten claws.  Once we got home, Mavis, being a year older than her, came over to sniff the new little creature we came in with and Wanda promptly jumped on her head.  Thus confirming that Mavis would never, ever dominate anything in the house, save for the occasional sparkle ball, and her all time favorite toy, abandoned shoe lace.

Wanda.  Dominating clown nose...

The dynamic in our house works like this.  Husband and Mavis are quieter by nature and are more go with the flow.  When the unexpected happens, or crisis takes place, both hide in their own way.  Husband avoids me and reassuringly says "it'll be fine...." and Mavis hides in the basement ceiling.


Wanda and I, on the other hand, tear around the house and make messes.


And so it goes in our house...