I am a cat person. I didn’t choose this – I just am. Strange cats, “unsocial” cats, mean cats and nice cats alike have always approached me as if I were going to give them a special treat.
When I was living in San Francisco I studied Chinese herbal medicine as well as Native American herbal medicine. I actually took herbal medicine classes at the house of a Native American while I was working at a Chinese import company and learning about their methodology. The details of those courses of study are for another day. The point is, the Native American herbalist had several cats in her house and none of them were very social.
There were 25 students at the Native American herbalism class. When the single cat appeared in the classroom and began sniffing people and investigating the scene, most of the people in the room were grasping for the cat’s attention and trying to pet him. He evaded everyone’s advances until he got to me. I didn’t try to pet him. But when he made it to my side of the room he looked me over, gave me a sniff, jumped into my lap and went to sleep. And he stayed there for the next hour.
But being a cat person does not mean I choose to live with them. I am a dog person too and I have two dogs. And having dogs is not the reason I don’t have cats in my house, even though my vet insists that I will eventually cave in to the persistent requests of my wife and daughter. Living with a cat is not much different than living with a good friend. It sounds good at first but good friends seldom make good roommates.
I used to have cats several years ago (ok, 17 years ago). They came with the apartment. I lived very well with my German Shepard and two cats until I started dating someone who had a puppy. The cats had “trained” my Shepard. But the puppy had zero respect for the cats and wasn’t bothered by hissing and a little claw scratching. And that drove one of the cats mad.
And by “mad”, I mean insane and vengeful. I remember coming home from work and walking into my bedroom to find my cat looking at me while peeing on the bed. Coincidence? Maybe. Then she did it again the next day. And that was it. I found a new home for her and when I moved out of the apartment (the new tenants kept the other cat, as was tradition) I never lived with a cat again.
I’ll feed a stray if I see one and will still visit them at the local pet store. But my plan for now is to keep living without cats in my house.
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