Not Cat People

Us. We're not even pet people. People who talk in baby voices to their dogs do not have our sympathies. When our friends J. & J. used to tell us that they fought through their cat -- attributing maelovelent motives to "mommy" and "daddy" as they sat in the same room not talking to each other, we were amused, we laughed. But really, we said to each other, in the car on the way home, who does that? Who treats their pets like people?

We both grew up with dogs and liked them, but in a vague platonic way, you know? Not with the fierce devotion that pet people have. I'll be honest: we're pettists.

And Lynn and I have always agreed about cats in general -- any animal that thinks they're better than humans doesn't really deserve to be treated like a pet. You're going to snub me? Fine. Go snub me in your own space and time. I don't have time to devote my energies to servility to a (literally) dumb creature who disdains me. I mean really...don't you wonder if people who do devote themselves to such creatures may just have a masochistic tendency?

Don't get me wrong. I do like cats. I think that in a nice cassoulet they can provide just the right tenderness to complement the sausage...

So anyway, in the face of such feline animosity, our family has been recently adopted by Emma the barncat.

Emma -- named for our cherished cousin in Michigan.

the barncat -- because thats the category of intimacy that we can handle, Lynn having grown up with barncats and this cat DEFINITELY not coming into the house.

adopted -- how? i know not. why? again, i don't know.

but I'm having to reformulate most of my thoughts on the species. When Jaelyn steps out the front door every morning and calls: "Emma!" the cat (?!) comes bounding across the yard and practically jumps into Jaelyn's arms. She's affectionate, patient, gentle. Jaelyn carries her everywhere; Addison chases her and then dodges away when she turns to sniff him. And she's completely cool with such odd childlike behaviour. She never snubs, never turns up her nose at any of the dinners offered on the front porch.

The kids have been playing in the sunshine for the last hour with her. Building her new beds with other carpet rolls stored in the garage. Carrying her everywhere. Following her everywhere. Running inside to report her poop. Yelling and happy and giggling and screaming. And Lynn's beaded two bracelets and I've written a thousand novel words....

I mean really she's *not* coming into the house -- and I feel nervous because i don't understand how Barncats survive winters & the cold -- maybe we'll get a haybale in the garage. But i have to admit that every night before I go to bed, i stick my head out the front door and check to make sure she's tucked into her carpet roll that I've positioned right next to the basement window which she had (apparently) chosen to sleep beside anyway for its leaky heat.

So we're still not cat people, but we seem to be being led around on a leash by an animal anyway. Who could predict the turns life will deliver?