But now, I neither hate them nor love them. I just miss them.
Over the last couple of months, one of them wandered away to die in the woods. She was old, she was sick, and that’s what cats do when the end is near.
Then the other one simply disappeared. Now: she wasn’t really ours to begin with. Instead, she belonged to a neighbor and that neighbor had the nerve to bring a dog home for the kids. The cat wanted no part of living in a house with a dog and decided to set up shop on our cat friendly front porch. At first, we didn’t know why the cat was there. Then the very-nice-though-dog-loving neighbor came over, told us the story, and asked if we minded the new cat. Not at all.
But now, as I said, that new-cat-who-wouldn’t-live-with-a-dog now won’t live with us. We don’t know if she was stolen or if she left us for younger and better looking caretakers.
I should be happy, right? I am allergic to them, after all. Now I don’t have to feed them or clean them or buy them food or shoo them off my car.
But I’m not. Here are the top five reasons why I miss my cats:
5. Routine. If you know me at all, you know I live by structure, routine, and ritual. And so there has long been something so comfortable about driving up the driveway and VOILA! out bounds a cat. Never interested in how my day has gone, but only concerned with her food. At least it was predictable.
4. Humor. I find cats’ inherent selfishness to be hilarious.
3. Care. Even though “thank you” is not in a cat’s vocabulary, I still find it rewarding to care for a being for whom I am the primary source of food and water.
2. Wonder. How did that cat get over that fence? How did she get up that tree? How did she kill that bird? Why does she think I want that bird’s severed head as a gift? Endless wonder.
1. Mice. Don’t have them. The cats make sure of that. Who’ll protect us from the vermin this winter?