In my childhood home the word "cat" was never uttered with anything but contempt or disdain. We were never cat people.
We had a string of dogs for a good 10+ years of my life. Our first dog, Reggie, a black Labrador and Doberman mix, was the best dog in the history of the world. I wish that every dog could be like him. The world would be a very happy place if it were possible.
I personally developed a dislike for felines early on because I was very allergic to them. My face and nose would itch like crazy if I made the mistake of failing to wash my hands after petting them and even grazed my face with one of my contaminated fingers. Coupled with the fact that they seemed arrogant, aloof, narcissistic, and unpredictable, in my mind, my fate as a lifelong dog lover was sealed. No kitties for me!
Fast forward with me in time to several years later. At this point I am married with two young children, sometimes working full-time, and always going to school, while juggling trying to keep an apartment clean and swapping off on "kid duty" with my husband when he has to leave for work or school the moment I walk through the door. Do I have time for a dog? Absolutely not. Do I have energy for a dog? That's an even bigger NO. Dogs are wonderful, loyal creatures--but not in my home.
The kids beg for a pet, and as the years progress, the idea of owning a dog becomes less appealing. Having a dog is a lot of work. They can be loud, hairy, and slobbery. My house is rarely clean as it is (haha!). Do I really want to add another being in the house that would not only add to it, but also not be able to clean up after itself? The idea is exhausting.
Then I think about cats. Cats are quiet, not slobbery, self-cleaning, and can be left alone without having to worry about them peeing in the house. They like their space, too, which I myself have come to appreciate. We read A LOT of "Pete the Cat" books, which quickly become my favorites. We watch "The Lion in Your Living Room" on Netflix on a whim. It is fascinating, and I learn a lot about cats that I never knew. I feel myself getting closer to being willing to bring a cat into our home.
Who am I? If I told myself this 15 years ago, I would have laughed in my own face. I find myself watching for stray cats to come around our apartment so I can feed them and, maybe, move them into the house as our own. I don't even recognize myself, haha!
We visit a friend's house where they have a new kitten. They had picked him up when they were in the Walmart parking lot. He was trying to climb into people's cars, and they didn't want him to get run over. They really don't want another cat and plan to find him a new home as soon as possible, so they give him a generic name, Orangey, just to have something to call him. My kids play with him for hours instead of watching TV. They are smitten. The suggestion is made, "You know, we are looking for a new home for Orangey, and the kids seem to really like him..."
It isn't long before he moves into our house. The first night he walks around and explores every nook and cranny. He is not interested in the kids, food, water, or toys. We agree that Orangey is a horrible name for him to keep, and I insist that his name be Benjamin (Bennie for short). The kids want to name him Puss (like Puss in Boots), so we agree to let that be his middle name. I wonder how long it will be until he warms up to us, and we all go to bed.
I am awoken before 7am by a furry, purring presence. Bennie is cuddling with me, and looking like this is old hat for him. I am absolutely thrilled. My daughter, who of course has made her way into our bed in the middle of the night, wakes up, too. The smile on her face as she strokes Bennie's fur is the best sight to behold. In a few minutes my husband, Tim, stirs from his slumber, then my son wanders into the room, and in an instant we are all huddled on the bed, cuddling and fawning over this contented little orange ball of fur. At that moment I know that this cat is good for us, and that having him as a part of our family will be a joy.
A week later, my last surviving grandparent passes away. My son is devastated, and Bennie's presence brings him comfort. I have never known many cats to be cuddly and social, but Bennie definitely is. He spends long stretches of time curled up on my son's lap. It brings his soft, hurting little heart healing, and I am grateful that God brought this kitty into our lives when He did.
Bennie is growing and maturing now. I say that he looks more regal in his older age, so I have started calling him Benjamin. It suits him, really. I call him my kitty boy, and the kids call him their furry brother. I never understood this type of thinking when it came to cats, but this little kitty has changed my mind and my heart. Sometimes it only takes one person, one animal, one instance, one moment, to do just that. To bring about a change in your life that really sticks for good. That can be in any experience or firmly-held belief. In this case, I said I would never, EVER be a cat person. Little did I know that Benjamin Hobbes (yes, his middle name has been changed) would come into our lives and make a convert out of me. So now, I make my confession (at least when it comes to this kitty): I am a cat lover. And when you see this little kitty boy's face, how could you not be?
