Kitty City

There are two feral kittens curled up asleep in my office. Which is astounding, if you consider where I come from. Granted, I grew up in a home where animals most definitely out-numbered humans, where several species co-habitated and intermingled, where the Circle of Life was witnessed in all its glory and all its gore on a daily basis. But I wanted nothing to do with it. Ever.

I hated pet hair and pet shit and pet slobber. I hated chewed up toys and books and clothes. Hated the smalls and the noise and that you could never just pick up and go. And that they all demanded (required?) so damned much attention. Attention that I'm pretty sure I thought should be turned toward me.

I swore up and down I would NOT have animals when I was on my own. Ask anyone in my family. They will describe the vehemence with which I proclaimed this.

Instead, I had a kid. And I guess that must have triggered the maternal, nurturing instinct that has opened me up to animals.

You can argue all you want that pets are not like children - and in some aspects, I'd probably agree with you - but the place they inhabit in your soul, and the emotional, physical, mental ingredients it takes to be a mother to a human and to an animal are basically the same, I think.

I've wound up with a dog who's deep and loving soul I swear I can see, but who has made me lose almost as much sleep as my brilliant but difficult child - because she, too, is brilliant and difficult. My work with her and my stubborn determination has prompted people to comment about 'how good I am with animals." This makes me laugh. It makes my mother laugh harder. (Too hard, if you ask me.)

But, I've taught her nothing, really. I'm pretty sure she's taught me a great deal of what I know about staying the course, about commitment, about powerlessness - and about power - about faith and confidence and love. And because she's taught me these things, I'm a better mother to my human child.

Anyway, two kittens. Kittens who would not come anywhere near us when we brought them home - spitting, hissing, growling. They now let us pet them (while hissing), sniff at us, and are almost crawling into our laps.

So far, so good. It remains to be seen how they will do with the other four animals in the house.

Yes. Four. So much for having nothing to do with animals.


Pip and Big Al (I know, I know... but Big Al started out as Blackie - apparently my brilliant child is not so brilliant when it comes to original pet names.)