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Hello, Kitty

Posted by Cecilia Leger on 12:52 AM
My cat somehow always knows when I’m not doing well.

In deference to my delicate condition, she retracts her claws, stops growling at the sound of my voice, doesn’t try to bite me when I fill her food bowl, and does other little acts of kindness and endearments. Tonight, she hopped up on my lap, allowed me to touch her for about 10 seconds, and gazed upon me with mild disdain instead of open hostility. Oh, how she loves me!

You may scoff, but a recent study shows that cat owners are less likely to die from heart attacks and other cardiovascular diseases. This does not surprise me: I get a lot of exercise dodging Baby’s claws. Cat lovers, the study explains, have less stress and anxiety levels (living in abject fear is invigorating, not stressful).

Another study asserts that cat owners live longer. Since I’m afraid to go to sleep at night, I know my baby has certainly added life to my years! I would have gotten a lot of things done with these extra hours, it’s just that Baby can’t sleep unless she’s on top of whatever book I’m trying to read or the keyboard as I try to type. I must respect her needs, as her exasperated sighs constantly remind me.

If you have heard disparaging comments, it is only because Baby’s enemies have mounted a relentless smear campaign. Why should she be blamed when people do not understand the mischievous nature of her hissing? The dilated pupils? The better to see you, my dear… The lashing tail? The ears flattened against her head? The way she pounces on you, leaping several feet in the air as her fangs try to reach your throat? Good-natured teasing, nothing more!

I know there are those who do not understand our relationship—and the sadistic few (one!) who have offered to throw her off my third-story balcony.

But she brings me joy. And I love her with the whole of my heart because she is mine. This denotes not possession, but belonging.

I had a truly horrible week last week. Feeling pathetic and battered, I needed a place to weather the storm. I found my refuge here: But now this is what the LORD says…Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. (Isa. 43:1).

At my best and (especially) at my worst and my weakest, the truest thing about who I am is that I am loved. Passionately. Recklessly.


2 Comments


Ceci, sorry to hear about your horrible week. :( But also happy to know that you have a wonderful little psychotic companion to take your mind off things. Who needs a nice cat that just sits on your lap and purrs and doesn't attack your eyes when your gaze meets its? That's boring.
You gave me a good laugh today, thanks! ;) The title alone cracks me up! I can see you creeping around your house, the lights out due to a storm, your back to the hallway wall as you blindly and fearfully make your way towards the living room. You hear glass shatter and you whisper, "He..hello, Kitty?"


It is good to see that someone else has learned about the true love of a cat!!!! I had to give mine up when my wife got pregnant but maybe now I that I have been inspired by you I may finally go out and get that beautiful cat that I have had my eye on!!! Love you and your writing much!!!!

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