FINDING FRIENDS IN LOW PLACES

I am an ailurophile. More commonly known as a cat lover. Like so many people before me, I have discovered the joys of owning a cat . . . or, in my case, four. But, as a cat lover - or an ailurophile - they are more to me than "my pets". To me, they are my children, my "kiddies", or my friends. They are as much a part of my family as my husband or my children. Only, I’ve had them around longer and they have never made me cry. I work with dog lovers or, wives of dog lovers. They are in the position that the dog came with the spouse. The same situation applies to my husband. I came with four cats. Hearing the stories of the convenience of the dog and the position they hold, they view my cats as pets. A word I would never dream of using in front of my cats. No, they are not pets. Mindless bodies that conveniently decorate my home. My cats are not tropical fish or a couple of parakeets. No, they are living, thinking, problem solving beings with very much a mind of their own. I’ve watched my cats attempt to turn door knobs to leave a room. They do not lack the know how. Only the impossable thumb that natural selection saw fit to bestow upon the human race. I’ve watched as my cats trot delicately over to me as I cry over broken hearts, stress, and parental problems. My cats know when I am distraught and seek to aid me . . . to comfort me. While showering one day shortly after bringing my newborn Emily home from the hospital, my cats came running into the bathroom yowling at me. I turned off the water knowing they were trying to tell me something. My sleeping newborn had awakened from her nap and was crying. They knew I was a mommy and that my kitten needed me. They knew I needed to go to her. They sleep in my arms every night. They greet me when I come home from work. They have snuggled me while I cry. They have willingly given to me their companionship, their support, comfort, and their friendship. When I hurt, they comfort. When I’m lonely, the accompany, while I sleep, they purr. Despite the language difference, there is no language barrier. We have found our own means of communication. My smiles reply to her purr. My tears are a signal for her to come and lick my face. They only talk when they want food or affection. In the case of my Seal, it’s food. My Rolo, both. My Peach and Tribble. Affection. Rule of thumb, let sleeping Peaches lie. Personal business on the floor says, "There are too many cats in this house. Clean my cat box. Or change my cat litter."