The Lovecats

Despite having been writing this blog since mid-July, I have not yet had a full-on discussion of one of the most integral parts of my family – my cats.  Over a month…this must be some kind of record.  I really didn’t ever think I’d become a cat person, let alone the crazy cat lady.  Though, I’m not certain if you’re allowed to be a crazy cat lady and married at the same time.  Perhaps it means I am something else.  But I digress…growing up, my family always had dogs.  When I was born, my parents had two golden retrievers…or perhaps just one.  Either way, a large lovely dog.  When he passed on, we became proud owners of a mutt named Benji.  I was obsessed with the movie, and even though our little cockapoo didn’t look a thing like the Benji on the big screen, that’s just who he was going to be.  Eventually Benji passed as well, and we were sans pet for some time.  My brother was probably born sometime around then, so there may have been a connection there, but I can’t be sure.

We were left with a pet void for a while, and then one day we came home from helping out at a Christmas bazaar, and lo and behold, a cat was sitting on the front porch.  My brother and I were desperate for a pet at that point I think, but our mom wouldn’t bite.  Eventually I think we wore her down.  However, the cat seemed to wear her down more than us, as we’d come home or look out the window to find her hanging off of the window screen every once in a while.  Our mom finally agreed to take her in, but only if we put an ad in the paper to see if the cat was missing.  We got a call from a lady who said her cat was missing.  The description was right…well, except for one crucial point.  The cat she was looking for was a boy…this was clearly a female.  However, our parents told the lady to come by anyway to see.  Apparently the cat didn’t want to be found, as she disappeared for a couple of days while the lady was about to stop by.  With no cat to see, the woman didn’t bother to come back…annnnnnnd the cat came back…the very next day…   

We adopted our first cat and called her Sophie.  Seventeen years later, the name suits her more and more each day.  She’s a lovely, regal creature.  Very snooty.  Wants her way, no matter what you’re doing at the time, and oh she wants it now!  But we love her dearly and she’s become a big part of our lives.  The vet believes that she was likely around two years old when she adopted us, so that would make her about 19 now.  Apparently that’s comparative to being 92.  No wonder she’s so cranky.   

Sophie in her favourite place in the house...next to the water bowl.

 

Sophie has given us loads of adventures over the years.  We were concerned when I moved from Niagara Falls to Waterloo for school, but she transitioned nicely.  She loves to travel in the car – completely happy to hang out on Ian’s lap or lounge on the centre console.  But even in her old age, she’s rather spritely…chasing after unseen spirits and scratching on the carpet in a strange running and stopping pattern.  We’ve been lucky with how healthy she’s been.  She does like to throw a curve ball at us occasionally…she decided that she would rather like to explore outside of our cottage on a trip to Quebec last year.  She’s not an outside cat.  After about 36 hours of worrying, searching the surrounding woods, and writing up a sign in French to display in the area for a missing cat, she decided to appear from under the cottage.  We’re not sure if she explored the area, didn’t like it and returned to the cottage, unable to find her way back inside, or if she was under there for the whole time, but either way, she’d finished her adventures and returned to us.  Thankfully.   

In the summer of 2009, we discovered a lovely little gal that would hang out in our backyard.  We fed her, and called her Mel.  We were concerned that she was very small and wanted to help her to find a home, as Sophie likely would not have accepted another cat into our household.  After a number of weeks of begging, my brother and sister in law said that they would adopt Mel.  We brought her down to Niagara Falls with some goodies like a cat bed and toys, and settled her into her new home.  A couple of weeks later, my brother called to let us know how Mel was…well…she was pregnant.  Oh boy.  Our good deed was about to multiply!   

Mel gave birth on August 31 to two kittens and September 1 (my birthday) to the second two.  Rather than leave my brother saddled with five cats, we adopted two of them.  Pretty good considering we didn’t even think Sophie would be happy with one.  The second oldest of the litter, a calico, was to be named Brit, and one of the two born on my birthday, an orange and white guy, would be named Jemaine.  Some of you may catch the Flight of the Conchords reference (and may also connect that back to Mel).   

The fuzzy babies shortly after arriving at our home...

 

We brought Brit and Jemaine up to Kitchener shortly after Ian and I got married – the week of our mini-moon.  They adjusted quickly to the new surroundings and we introduced them very slowly to Sophie.  Ian built a cat wall in the basement so that we could keep them in their own area, while allowing Sophie to understand that someone new was around.  Shortly after, we integrated them into the rest of the house, and by Christmas, everyone was sleeping upstairs.   

Sophie still doesn’t particularly like Jemaine.  She tolerates Brit.  Both kittens are fascinated with Sophie.  They don’t understand that when she runs away from them, it is because she wants to be rid of them, not that she wants to play.  For the most part, they leave each other alone, but there are times when we catch them all hanging out together.   

All aboard the kitty-go-round...

 

 It’s funny.  They all have very distinct personalities.  I’m sure I’ll speak more about them in other postings.  But for now, I’ll leave you with some of my favourite pictures…  

Sophie prides herself on being an intellectual

 

Knocked out in his cat bed. With MY beach towel. Well, what's left of it. It's the second towel he's destroyed with his nesting.

 

Brit posing on the cat climber

 

Sophie keeping a close eye on Brit...plotting death I'm sure...

 

I can only imagine the conversation...

 

Shocking us all, Jemaine decided to go sit on Sophie. It didn't last. Jemaine won the blankets for the afternoon with this power move.