Yep, I’m Cat People

by Tom Shafer

December 25, 2020

Okay, so you’ve figured out by now that I’m cat people.  I’ve written about cats occasionally, placed pictures of them in random stories, even provided a separate section for them under the My Pics tab.  But the whole being “cat people” is so much more complicated than you could ever imagine. 

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And, I didn’t start out as a cat lover.  I didn’t have anything against them in particular; it’s just that I grew up with dogs.  From the age of seven until I got married, I cared for two different Shetland sheep dogs, Lucky and Cocoa, and spent much time feeding, walking, running, and playing with them.  I actually had had few interactions with cats in general, and those were mostly feral ones living in a barn on my grandfather’s farm in Kentucky – and definitely not cuddly, playful kitties.  We would put milk from the cows out for them, but they would scatter pretty quickly anytime we approached.  I don’t remember any of my friends having cats either, so again, my experience with them was limited.

My wife Jane, however, came from a cat family, and after we got married, we decided that we would adopt one to start our little family.  And this made perfect sense.  Jane was just starting her first grown-up job while I was completing my degree in education during days and working fast food (Burger Chef!) at night.  Though I loved dogs, it would have been unfair to keep one caged inside a small apartment for eight plus hours a day.  A cat, on the other hand, would live like a king or queen in our smallish space.  And besides, many apartment complexes frowned on dog ownership (even ones that claimed to be “pet friendly”), so it didn’t seem practical – and financially prudent for a freshly married couple who qualified for government assistance (blocks of cheese and a heat subsidy for winters).  Perhaps it wasn’t prudent for cat ownership either (after all, we did get kicked out of an apartment for having an unauthorized cat), but money was no obstacle – because we didn’t have any!

So, Keena became the first in a long string of cat family members – and was the only one to live without the burden of other cats, at least for a little while.  Gozer came a couple of years later, a needed companion for Keena, and over time, as death subtracted, we added.  Niggle and Buddy came next, and when we moved from apartments to our first house, then our second, strays found us and eventually they too came indoors to join the family.  I had a hard and fast rule about strays: the moment I spent any veterinarian money on them, their outdoor days were over.  BTW, as all animal owners know, every trip to a vet nets at least a two hundred and fifty dollar tab.  For the strays, that first trip was just a down payment on life with the Shafers, whether they wanted it or not.

I can’t even remember what it was like to coexist with just one or two cats.  At one point, we had four of them living under our roof (for about three years) – and three outdoors at that same time.  Yes, dealing with seven cats at once can provide its own set of challenges – especially at feeding times – but it really isn’t that bad.  And I do have to use a present tense verb in the last part of that sentence because we are currently caring for seven, two living inside with us and the other five utilizing four cat houses on front and back porches – and our garage.  I don’t necessarily recommend living with seven cats, but as happens in life, we really didn’t have much of a choice because we weren’t the ones doing the choosing.

Now, you may be wondering how it came to this, being cat people – and frankly, I’m right there with you.  Of the eighteen cats we’ve called our own over the past thirty-seven years, we purchased or adopted five, including only one of the current crop (an adoptee in 2004).  So, that means that seventy-two percent of our cats actually adopted us!  I know most people don’t believe that cats can read, but it’s obvious to me that they can definitely comprehend the word “SUCKER” tattooed to my forehead.

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As it so happens, I was just interrupted by one of our outdoors, the unfortunately named Rainbow, whom we thought initially was a female until he trusted us enough to allow pettings.  It’s snowy and chilly today (about 16°), and he needed a little human interaction – and warmth!

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When we lived in Miamisburg, Ohio, we had our first experience with truly feral cats.  Waldruhe Park was a block away, and I imagined that these cats had come from there.  Four of them (Puffy, Hisser, GrayCat, and Flatface – appropriate names based on appearance and behavior) were never touched by human hands, but they trusted us enough never to leave our property (we provided food!), which did have a nice stand of woods for them to wander.  My wife is convinced that I am a cat whisperer, that these cats wouldn’t have stuck around without my intervention – and maybe she is right – but mostly I was patient and available – and provided food!  Either that, or perhaps I unwittingly smell like cat treats. Anyway, I eventually built a couple of cat houses that were routinely utilized by GrayCat and Flatface (who was blind), especially during the winters and inclement weather.  Though they seemed aloof and indifferent, all four did enjoy hanging out with us year round.

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Three other feral cats actually wormed their way into our world there – one literally.  Runner was a little gray runt of a kitten, perhaps six or seven weeks old when we started seeing her in our Miamisburg woods.  It being winter, we were concerned about her ability to survive, especially since she appeared parentless.  So, while I was south on a golf outing in mid-January with buddies, my wife was left to deal with all of the kitties, indoor and out.  On one particularly cold night, she was trying to lure Runner into the house and inadvertently left our back sliding door cracked open for about an hour.  When she returned later, she didn’t see anything outside the door, so she shut it and went to bed.  The next morning, while fixing herself some breakfast, she caught the flash of something moving in the living room, and there was Runner.  Of course, she ran from us for a while (thus the name) but over time, she became a prolific snuggler – and a great little kitty.

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Boo (the first of our black cats) became a part-time resident after surviving a nasty catfight – perhaps with Hisser, though we will never know for sure.  After a three hundred dollar vet visit, we tried to make him a housecat, but he had too much “wild” in him, so he became our only indoor-outdoor cat (breaking my hard-and-fast rule – however, turns out I’m not so fond of the smell of cat urine on carpet).  We weren’t necessarily crazy about this arrangement, but we were dealing with a cat so . . .  He would come in at night but would spend most of his days outside – unless it was cold.  At least he was a smart cat.

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Mookie (a mottled or tortoiseshell calico) came indoors for the most practical of reasons: we didn’t want kittens.  She was one of three sibling teenage cats hanging out in the woods when I caught her brother “trying to seduce” her (this is a PG blog after all).  So, after another three hundred dollar trip to the vet – and a quick “fix” – she stayed inside, and still lives with us today, and is my constant shadow and lap pillow. 

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Now, I caught a couple of murmurings there about our cat names.  And, I have to admit, I’m not the best at naming stuff, including living things.  Like my Native brothers, I tend to name things experientially, which explains my bowling teams: Rollin’ Colons, Leaky Peters, and Sons of Uranus.  So when I started naming these stray cats, number one, I wasn’t expecting them to become permanent fixtures (these were temp names for temp cats), and number two, the names weren’t given a lot of thought (obviously!).  But once you saw them and heard their names, I think you would agree with their accurate designations.

These are the seven cats currently in residence with us here in our third home: Cricket, an indoor calico and the oldest at sixteen, who loves to play and is the best leaper we’ve ever had; Mookie, to whom you have already been introduced; Boots, an outdoor black cat with white paws (thus Boots) who loves treats and hanging out with humans; KiKi, an outdoor yellow tabby whom we’ve never touched but loves us and lives with us anyway; OrangeCat, an aloof, outdoor male who hangs in our garage and is just now starting to appreciate human interaction; Rainbow, who desperately wants to be an indoor/outdoor cat and follows me wherever I go; and, Luna, a six-month-old outdoor furry black kitten who lives on our front porch and loves a good belly-rubbing.  A newer black and white cat is hanging out in the woods and feeding on our back porch, and may become our eighth cat when he or she discovers an open house here on the back patio.  Names are being entertained (Nakita the likely), but the cat has yet to make a firm commitment.  Perhaps he or she is working the neighborhood for a better deal.  My sister-in-law, who lives in our attached in-law suite, also has a cat, Noel, a black and white, blue-eyed beauty – but we won’t count her against our total.

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I do have to mention a couple of other cats, one whom we adopted from my wife’s father Richard, and another who resides at Friends Care Center in Yellow Springs where Richard lived until his passing.  Freckles started life in Eureka Springs, Arkansas, and was brought here when Richard moved back for rehabilitation and increased attention from family.  She was a laid-back cat who always coveted human companionship.  When Richard lost his mobility completely, he left Friends only for doctor or VA appointments and was unable to come to our house to visit with Freckles and us.  At some point, Freckles peacefully passed away, but we didn’t have the heart to tell Richard.  So, until his death, Richard was convinced that she was still alive and thriving, perpetuated with lots of pictures when he asked how she was doing.  At Friends, Jack is the house cat who travels – well, pretty much wherever he wants to go.  He’s a loving indoor/outdoor who will go from room to room visiting with residents, especially ones who might provide a treat or two.  Jack loved to visit Richard, and frequently climbed up onto his bed to take quick catnaps.  We just got a Christmas card from Jack – and the staff at Friends – so I know he is still doing well, and doing good for all of the people residing and working there.

Thinking about Jack and Richard reminded me of a poem I read some years back, one authored by Garrison Keillor concerning the death of his cat Ralph (of course, penned under a Lake Wobegon pseudonym).  Death is an unfortunate byproduct of any pet companionship.  I don’t want to diminish those human deaths we suffer throughout our lives, but pet deaths take that suffering to a different level, one that only the surviving companions can truly understand.  So, we have dedicated a small section of our three acres to those critters who have crossed the rainbow bridge, from dead wrens, to goldfish, to chipmunks, and yes, to cats.  Eight cats reside there now, all buried with a favorite toy in their favorite blanket, and it’s nice to visit with them from time to time, just to say hello. 

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Well, that’s my take on cats – and an answer to a query from a faithful reader.  I know my life is richer and fuller with them in it, and I would find it difficult to be without them – even all seven or eight!  I hope that you have pets in your life, little (or big!) friends who will love you unconditionally and help you on those days when you really need it.  I think people believe that they are saving a pet when they adopt one, then realize pretty quickly that they themselves are the ones being saved. Victorian writer Charles Dickens once wrote, “What greater gift than the love of a cat.”  In this holiday season, I can’t say it any better than that. 

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