Cats

C is for Cats

I always loved cats. This was a dilemma. I wanted to have a kitten or two as pets, but Dennis was not a cat lover.  So I compromised and got a dog.

As a child, we, my sister and I, always had cats around the farm.  We watched Mama Cat as her belly grew and she became more secretive and grouchy.  When her belly went flat and hung down to the ground, we’d follow her back to the place where she’d hidden her kittens. 

We knew better than to bother the kittens right away.  If we messed with the babies, Mama Cat would move them, again and again, if necessary.  Instead, we’d wait until the kittens eyes were open and were prowling around the hiding place.  By this time, Mama Cat would allow us to love her babies, but would watch from a safe distance to be sure they were safe with us.

There was never a wild cat on the farm.  As soon as they were weaned, they were tame enough that we could play with them, even to the point of dressing them up in our doll clothes.  I’m not so sure now that they enjoyed this experience, but they loved having attention and treats, so they cooperated, up to a point.  They were even less pleased with the buggy rides.  Dolls were much more cooperative, but not nearly as cute.

I love seeing the big cats, too, on television and on the rare occasion that we go to a zoo.  I prefer to watch them on tv, in their own habitat, unconfined.  I believe that’s the way God intended for them to live.

But that’s material for another blog post.