Cat-Astrophic Change of Heart

    It only took a few seconds, and it only took one look.  Love at first sight wasn’t an emotion I had planned to experience, not with a cat.  Having grown up in a family that appreciated the canine species, felines just weren’t around.  Even when dating, I found myself categorized as either a cat or dog “lover”.  Usually I dated dog lovers, because if I didn’t espouse a profound adoration for cats, I wasn’t asked out on a second date by a cat lover.

    I wasn’t planning on having a change of heart.  Sometimes it happens when you are least prepared.

    I traveled frequently in my government position.  It seemed each time I was gone, my husband Jay would “find” a pet.  On one trip to California, I received a phone call that Jay had “found” two puppies, well, not actually puppies, on Lackland AFB, Texas, where he worked.  After checking with the base veterinarian, the security police who trained dogs, and advertising for an owner, no one claimed the dogs, so Jay did.  Wanting a security dog for our new home in the country, Jake and Elwood, fully grown and spunky Belgian Malamois mix, with loud barking to scare off any type of burglar or sometimes the UPS delivery man, became part of our family.

    On my next trip a few months later, the phone was ringing when I returned to my hotel room.  (Cell phones were NOT the usual mode of communication at that time). 

    “Hi,” Jay said.  “Guess what?  I found a kitten for you”!  Jay blurted out as soon as he heard my voice.

    “A kitten for me?”  I was incredulous.  For years he had wanted a cat and I had objected, never having owned one.

    “You’ll love her.  She’s about six weeks old, gray with black and white stripes, and an orange streak across her face,” he described.  All I could envision was a smelly house, an opened can of cat food in the refrigerator, and cat hair covering our furniture.

    “You know I’m not exactly thrilled,” I replied.  My younger sister had been allergic to cat hair when she was little, so that was another reason I had not grown up with cats. 

    “Don’t worry, she’s a wild cat and will stay outside.  No hair on the furniture, and no smelly litter box.  You’ll like her, Dear,” he added.  I could only imagine the twinkle in his eye, even through the telephone line.

    When I arrived home from my trip, Jake and Elwood were waiting with wagging tails to greet me.  As I was petting them, I noticed a little ball of gray fluff curled on the dining room window sill.  As I slowly approached, I realized this was “the cat”.  I had to admit, she was cute.  And her color was distinctive.   She allowed me to walk within three feet of her, but not close enough to touch.  Talking softly to her, I tried to calm her because I knew she was in unfamiliar surroundings.

    As I approached closer, she bolted from the window sill, ran across the front porch, and scampered off into the woods.

    “I just saw the kitten”, I told Jay when I entered the house.  “She is rather cute,” I conceded.

    “Wait until you see her up close.”  He had had that opportunity because she bit his hand when he captured her to bring her home.  She had been born in the gutters of a two-story  military building, but had fallen down one of the rainspouts and was unable to re-connect with her mother.  So Jay scooped her up and brought her home.

    “Up close” was the next day when I found the kitten wandering aimlessly around the patio. “Come here, kitty,” I coaxed.  “Let me check you out.”  Surprisingly, she walked directly towards me.  Inexperienced as I was with cats, I picked her up and held her like a newborn baby.  Only later did I learn how secure she felt in my arms since cats are known for not putting themselves in an indefensible position. 

    I stroked her cute little face with my index finger and then scratched behind her ears.  A little pink tongue licked my hand.  I looked her straight in her emerald green eyes at the exact moment she looked into mine.  That’s all it took – one look.  We became best friends, mom and child, companions.  I named her “TC” for “the cat”.

    I worried about TC as if she were my own child.  When she was injured by an animal in the woods, I rushed her to the veterinarian.  The doctor decided to keep her overnight for observation.  I was crushed and sobbed most of the drive home.  When “TC” had her “hysterectomy”, guess who took off a day from work to care for her?  I followed her with a folder blanket in case she wobbled over when she tried to walk.  I wanted to ensure she had a soft landing.  Her inability to walk properly was due to the anesthetic.   Playing doting mother all day, I held her in my lap and rocked her to sleep in our rocker.  I don’t know if it helped TC, but I know I felt much better!

    TC and I had our daily routines.  When I entered the house after work, I called out, “Is there a kitty-cat in here”?  Within seconds, TC would come bounding out from wherever she was in the house or appear at the patio door.  TC was considered an indoor/outdoor cat, so no inside litter box was required.  She often brought me presents of her affection and skill as a hunter, like baby bunnies and birds.

    Once the ice was broken, there was no stopping us in our rescue of the feline community.  One day we were dining at an outside restaurant in Gruene, Texas.  State government laws prevent having too many wild cats eating on a restaurant patio, so the owner telephoned us when she recognized a gorgeous little black and white cat that we had noticed a week before.  “Asta” was truly an outdoor cat, at first, but after some coaxing with “mom”, and then dad, she truly became a tame feline. 

    Asta got pregnant a few months after living with us, and I would hold her in my lap at night and feel the little babies movies.  “Chevy” and “Chase” were born a few months later and when she took them into the woods to teach them survival techniques, my heart was broken.  I thought I would never see them again.  But one day, she carried them into our house by the scruff of their necks and tried to set up a household under our bed to nurse them.

Asta, our little "mommy"

Chevy on left, Chase on right

    All of the cats got along, surprisingly since they were from different litters.  Thinking four felines was sufficient for any family,  I didn’t intend to find three black/white sisters at a local petshop.  I called Jay to ask if I could pick out one, as the black and white theme was prevalent with our cats.  His reply was, why not bring all three?  The more, the merrier.  So that’s how we adopted Duchess, Princess and Milady. 

    TC passed away of the feline leukemia disease after many wonderful years.  One by one, over the years, they started to go to the Rainbow Bridge.  Two wandered off and we never saw them again.  One had a cancerous tumor.  Hopefully someone who loved them as much as we did adopted them.  Chase, the largest male, lived to be 17 years old.  All of our family were neutered and fully adopted with annual check-ups and the best of care. 

    When the last of the original Johnson 7 had gone, we got lonely.  The process of adopting more began and has continued ever since, mostly two at a time.  Nigel and Basil (two adorable little guys) lasted only 7 weeks due to the deadly feline virus  that they haven’t found a cure for nor test for when one adopts.  Two more girls, Claire and Maddy,  then our Harley, love of our lives. 

    Not everyone will have a catastrophic change of heart.  But time and time again, whenever we visit a pet store, see kittens on social media, or just enjoy watching our five ferals, I know my heart made the right decision and I’ve never regretted the change of heart for one minute.