Some of you may have seen this picture on Facebook of Sister Agnes – our come to stay stray. She’s graced us with her presence for about two weeks and she’s brought to mind other cats we’ve owned and one other we’ve rescued. Suddenly all things cat are coming back to me now and – oh – let me count the ways.
Attitude – Or maybe I should say “cattitude”. There’s a reason the Egyptians worshiped the feline. I’ve yet to meet one that didn’t have a bit of regal bearing. As if, after God created Adam and Eve and said, “It is good,” He created the cat and said, “It is better.” And like Queen Nefertiti, who would dismiss her slaves with the flick of a bejeweled hand, the cat does the same with her tail. No jewels, but then, superior beings don’t need them.
Fastidiousness – Even Agnes, who was starving out in the wild – is fussy about her food. This came sharply home to me as I wandered the cat food aisle at Hannaford. Others were there, bending down, squinting at labels, reaching way back for the last can of Ocean Delight – this week’s rage among cats and harder to get than Red Sox tickets (I don’t know why I wrote that – I have no clue about tickets). Anyway, I want to go along the aisle handing out tissues to fellow sufferers whispering, I know, I know. And then to myself, What will you eat this week? What, Agnes, what??
Comfort Zone – James Herriot in his wildly popular (from a while back) book series, All Creatures Great and Small, notes that cats, of all the animals, know best where to find the places of maximum comfort. How right he was! So far Agnes has found my lap to be her favorite spot (covered with a fine Woolrich blanket), but when I’m not there, she manages rather well tucked into the corner of the gold love seat or curled up on the super soft yellow fleece baby blanket that’s supposed to be for our son’s dog.
Barfing – The other day I saw it just in time. The cat barf on the stairs as I was going up. The next day in a great, great hurry and not wanting to mis-step I gabbled to myself as I went down, “please no barf, please no barf,” and felt strangely thankful when there wasn’t any. What’s up with that???? My life was so simple before.
Our reward for putting up with Sister Agnes? The occasional grateful rub against the legs and a deeply contented purr that lets us know we’re appreciated. Somehow that seems like enough.
We couldn’t ask much more from the superior being who has come to live with us.
PS: Her nun- like qualities are the reason for her name. Look at her. Would you misbehave in her presence? Right after I took this picture she arched an eyebrow and I felt compelled to clean up that bit of dirt on the baseboard. Sheesh.