When my cats aren’t happy, I’m not happy. Not because I care about their mood but because I know they’re just sitting there thinking up ways to get even. – Percy Bysshe Shelley
Maggie came to us seven years ago in September. She wore a green flea collar so when I saw her “Halloween Cat” a PT Cruiser to a full stop in the street, I assumed she belonged to someone.
We had just lost our fifteen year old Fluffy and were down to a herd of five kitties. We were not looking for another. Still, what do you do? Here is a small five week old kitten, obviously lost, that needs help. I put up posters around the neighborhood, posted her on facebook, etc. figuring someone would claim her. I refused to name her so as not to get attached. Yea right….
Fur-baby Sitting Maggie
After a week, when there were no claims, my sister said she wanted her. She WAS adorable. Sis named her Maggie. I agreed to keep her until she got settled in
to a new place, then under construction. That took a bit longer than planned, so Maggie and I became friends. I kept my sis in mind as I trained and loved on “The Maggs”, but was secretly glad that I would have visitation rights after she left my care.
We are cat people. I was not always a cat person. Oh, I had pets growing up but they were always outside pets, mostly dogs, and the attachment fell far short of what I know today. I suspect that had to do with several things: We were a farming community and my mother was raised on a farm; Animals served a practical role and were somewhat transitory so we were not encouraged to get too attached; If I had any real attachment to animals growing up it was to horses on my grand parents farm and to the iconic TV animals like Flicka, Lassie and Trigger. I out-grew all that when boys became more than someone to just climb trees with, but that is another subject.
I became a cat person when I married. My husband is a true cat whisperer and could give Jackson Galaxy some serious competition. He has an amazing way of bringing out the unique personality of any cat, of restoring cats who are damaged and to actually get them to mind! Well, mind in that “I’m a cat” sort of way. We have a lot of fun with our kitty tribe. No, we are not crazy cat people, but I have learned to truly love, appreciate and even train these furry soul-mates.
The oldest of our tribe right now is Flaps. Yes, Flaps, like the control surface on an airplane. He is the fo
urth in a series of aviation named cats. The first three were Pitch, Roll, and Yaw. There were also Stick and Rudder. These are gone now, but Flaps, now four-teen years old, remains. We started the series when we acquired an airplane hangar with an apartment. The cat’s job, besides keeping us company and entertained, were to keep rodents under control in the hangar. Rodents can be very damaging to aircraft and this was our way of dealing with them. Our version of barn cats, I guess.