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Oct 22, 2003 I grew up in the country, surrounded by lots of trees, rolling hills, fresh air, and animals. It was nothing to find a raccoon, possum, groundhog or snake out in the field, or on occasion right on the front porch. And of course we had our share of chickens, ponies, dogs and cats. I do believe I was born loving cats. Ive been told that our old cat, Smoky, used to curl up on my Moms lap while she was carrying me and his purring soothed me in the womb. Dont get me wrong, though. Dogs are wonderful animals and I worshipped the ground my dog, Rusty, walked on, but there is just something about a cat I cant resist. I think its their independent spirit, inquisitiveness, haughtiness, playfulness, devilishness, and the knack of knowing just when you need a kitty hug. Throughout the years Ive had many cats. One of the benefits of growing up in the country is the excitement of waking up and finding a new kitty. Unfortunately, the new kitties were usually the cast-offs of relatives and friends who would drop them off, mostly when we werent home or when it was dark so we wouldnt see them, somehow never realizing that we would recognize the cat. We never turned an animal away although, to my dismay, Mom and Dad would never let us keep them in the house. There was always fresh straw in the barn for them to curl up in and plenty for them to eat; and my sister, brother and me to play with them and love them. Once I was old enough to move out on my own, I made sure to rent from a pet friendly landlord. Well...except once and that was a huge mistake, and another story. Right now I have two cats, Lazarus and Caleb. Laz is the old man of the house, going on fifteen, and Caleb is my baby, now three. Laz is named after that Biblical character, Lazarus, because he also came back from the dead. One of my cousins was nice enough to ask in advance if Mom and Dad would take two female cats, which they did, and both ended up pregnant. Laz was born on a cold and rainy day in May in the middle of a lilac bush that was against the house. There were four kittens, but two of them didnt survive the birth. We made the perfect home for momma and the two surviving kittens, filling a box with a blanket and soft towels and putting it in a secluded corner of the porch. I fell instantly in love with one of the kittens. Independent momma would have none of it, though, and as soon as our backs were turned she carried the kittens away. We searched and searched for days, and although momma would show up to eat and visit, she never had the kittens with her. When we would try to follow her on her meanderings she would go to the barn or the corncrib or one of the other buildings, but the kittens would never be there, and we finally decided they did not survive. About two weeks later the second momma cat had a litter of six healthy kittens, and momma number one adopted them as her own, too, sharing in the nursing and cleaning and loving of the babies. One day I came out to see the two mommas and the kittens and all the sudden realized there was an extra baby, and it had the same tabby markings as momma number ones kitten I had fallen in love with. He was tinier than the others were, although he was almost two weeks older, and had the biggest eyes I have ever seen on a cat. I named him Lazarus and he was mine. When I moved to a new apartment he came with me, and now almost 15 years later, he still has the biggest eyes, although they are now affected with glaucoma. Not only does Laz have glaucoma, but also has become selectively hard of hearing, and has recently been diagnosed with high cholesterol. Caleb was rescued from the empty lot next door. My roommate actually rescued him. She is the one that found him and his brother on our back stoop one day during a rainstorm. They were feral and ran, but kept coming back day after day. My roommate started putting food out in the carport and the babies would come to eat, but would never let either of us near them. They would play hide and seek, hiding more often than not from us, and no matter how hard we tried, we just couldnt get them to come close enough to pet. They were so tiny and cute and my roommate just couldnt stand the thought of them being out in the big scary world all alone. She was able to get a have-a-heart trap from our local park and set it up in the carport with some food inside. Caleb, who was the braver of the two, went inside to eat and the door closed. He was terrified. I wasnt home at the time, but I understand that my roommate had a terrible time getting him from the trap into a carrier. She was going to see if one of the local rescue organizations would take him, but when I came home, I just knew I couldnt let him leave. Any of you who have seen the movie Sarah Plain and Tall will remember the little boy in the movie who happened to be named Caleb. In one scene when they think Sarah has gone back home Caleb says its because he is loud and pesky, and thats how my little Caleb got his name. It took many weeks for him to come around and even let me pet him. He spent most of his time under my bed, only coming out to use a litter box I had in my bedroom for him. I kept food and water in bowls under my bed for him, and would lean over my bed every day and play with him. Id toss a ribbon or a string under the bed and hed come just to the edge and no further, trying to catch it. I slowly started moving the food and water dishes out into the open, too. Finally, he made it out far enough that I could touch him, and we worked at it and worked at it and he has turned into a pretty trusing and loving little guy and a nice lap kitty. He still hides from just about everyone who comes to the house, and many people have only seen photos of him and think hes a figment of my imagination, but he is as loving as can be with my roommate and I. I believe Ive rambled on enough, but keep watching for future installments of the musings of a cat lover. ------------ Email Robin L. Rostonski: calebcat@core.com ------------ |
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