Stray Cats

I grew up with dogs and have always considered myself a dog person. They are lovely and magnificent creatures. If you ever need to me to cry, ask me to remember putting down my childhood dog, Tramp. My family got her the same week I was born. She was my #1 pal. In my adult life, I’ve not owned a pet. Not sure what that means, but it feels relevant. I’ve been a pet step dad, an uncle, and a sitter. 

Over the last few years, I’ve become a cat guy. 

As I type this on my porch, an adorable neighborhood cat named Felix is contently cleaning himself just out of arm’s reach. My neurotransmitters are chanting in unison, “Scoop him up! Scoop him up” while my better angels hold me back. I know he’s content where he is, sprawled in the grass, basking in the cool night breeze. My desire to snuggle him within an inch of his life has almost nothing to do with what would make him happy. And it is here, dear reader, where we discover the upshot.

It should be noted that I do not speak ill of dog people. To some extent, I still am one. Until recently, I didn’t have what it takes to love a cat. And I’m still working on it.

To love a dog is easy. More specifically, being loved by a dog is easy. Their love is uncomplicated. It’s pure. It’s true. Their love rises as surely as the sun. And it feels magnificent. Cats, on the other hand, are a fickle and mysterious beast.

Sorry. Had to take a break to play with Felix. He started pouncing on my feet and that was my cue to get his catnip soaked dangle toy and let him pretend to be a murderer.

It’s not easy to love cats. They exist fully autonomous of you. Their lives are full and complete without you. They often don’t come when you call them. If you force yourself on them, they will run. They scare easily and don’t forget. In short, they exist beyond your control. To be loved by a cat, is to relinquish the reins. Their schedule of affection is not up to you. But when the sun peaks through the clouds, God’s finger reaches out and chooses you. This is Felix’s love. In the claw game of life, I have been chosen. 

My instinct is to smother. To suffocate with my oppressive love. To subject my beloved to a relentless assault of my needs. Hug me. Come to me. Sit with me. It works wonders with dogs. They don’t seem to mind at all. Cats, on the other hand, will vanish like marked down Easter candy. You scare them away, and you’re done. No second chances.

Loving a cat is patient, gentle, and slow. They think you’re a big dumb idiot and they’re rightly suspicious. It takes time to earn their trust. Days. Weeks of consistency. It’s taken me years to refine. All I want in this miserable universe is to hold them captive in air jail while I nearly crush their tiny body with my big dumb love. But time has afforded me wisdom. My love is no longer suffocating. It’s encouraging and safe. It’s for them and only tangentially for me. 

If you do it right, you will be handsomely rewarded. They show up on your doorstep every morning meowing for you. They wait up for you to get home. They become a pillar of your mental health. The reward is astounding. Not just their love, but for the change in you. You learn to love unselfishly. To care about their needs and wants.

I used to be a bulldozer of love. And speaking from experience, you ruin a lot fewer flower beds with a gentle spade. I was a dog person because I didn’t know how to love anything else. Currently, I own neither a cat nor dog. But, for the first time, I’ve started to understand how to make them happy. To be worthy of their love. For now, I’m tilling lightly.

Goodnight, Mr. Felix. Come by anytime. I’ll be here. Love you, Buddy.