Akascribe A personal blog covering all manner of subjects

To my utter surprise, I have become a cat lover.  Never thought it would happen.  I suppose it took a “perfect storm” of circumstances, but it also goes to show – you just never know.

Growing up, we had cats and a dog, but I was definitely in the canine camp.  The fact that several of the cats were run over by cars might have had something to do with the bias.  It’s hard to form an attachment with a species that keeps getting itself killed.  Plus, the dog in question was an amazing Golden Retriever, the quintessential family dog.  Rusty – I had the honor of naming her when we got her as a puppy – surfed with us in the ocean (we lived on Malibu Beach), allowed my sister to ride her like a horse with nary a whimper, and stoically endured 6 months of rabies quarantine when we moved to England for high school.  The sweetest of creatures, she would plant a big wet one on you if your face got anywhere near her soft mug.  It’s hard not become a dog lover with a pooch like that.  We had a variety of cats during this period but they were all, well, second class pets in my eyes.  Cute and sometimes interesting, but still cats.

Rusty

We finally euthanized Rusty at age 14 when, already blind and deaf, the rest of her organs started to fail.  My parents and sister took her to the vet, but I couldn’t bring myself to go.  I was 19 and I bawled like a baby.

I went dog-less (and cat-less) for a decade as I finished college, went off to graduate school and began working life on my own.  But something was always missing.  Finally, when I was between jobs and part-timing from home, it occurred to me: this was an opportunity.  Before I knew it, I was driving back from the Sacramento Valley with a barely-weaned Border collie puppy in my car.

Those who met Scout know I’m not exaggerating when I say she was the smartest and liveliest dog in the world.  The breed is known for that – they are working dogs, herding sheep in all types of weather and terrain.  Since she was a city dog, she was reduced to herding other dogs in parks – or anything else that moved.  Then we discovered Frisbee tossing, and she was hooked.  To watch her run full speed towards some spot where she calculated the Frisbee would go, making split-second adjustments for wind gusts and terrain, then leap at just the precise moment and catch it in her mouth – it was both a wonder and a joy.  I’m not sure who took more pleasure, her or me, but we spent countless hours over the years playing like that.

Scout

Truth be told, she wasn’t the most affectionate dog in the world, in the slobbery sense.  Oh, she loved to curl up next to me or to have me scratch her lower back, yet she wasn’t a big kisser.  But she was brighter and more loyal than a lot of people, and her sense of fun and accomplishment at a “job” well-done was infectious.

I could of course go on and on but unfortunately, in real life, she couldn’t.  I included a quote on her memorial card to the effect that, the only fault with dogs is that they don’t live long enough.  It’s true.  I mourned her well and deeply and will remember her for the rest of my life.

My son, who was 4 when Scout died, had already been hankering for a cat.  This wasn’t possible while she was alive because – for some reason – cats drove her bonkers.  My wife said that I egged her on, but I swear – all I did was teach her the word “cat” (she had a ridiculously large vocabulary) – and then say it out loud if I saw one.  With that, she’d tear off after it like some demented beast.  Cats being cats, they always safely escaped.  The only time she ever cornered a cat, she soon returned, tail between her legs, with two claws neatly stuck in her snout.

As Scout approached 14 years old, she got a malignant tumor on her paw and we readied ourselves for the inevitable.  A round of chemo cleared up the paw but the cancer had spread to her liver. Then one day she couldn’t get up.  She looked straight at me and told me with her mournful eyes – it’s time.  I picked her up and my wife drove us to our vet to put her out of her suffering.  I’m so glad I was there when she died – I guess I wasn’t ready with Rusty – but I was able to stroke Scout’s head and remind her of all the good times and then say goodbye.  When we got home I was of course a sobbing mess.  My sweet son patted me on the back and said: “Dad, I’m really sorry about Scout. [pause] Can we get a cat now?”  If you’ve ever laughed and cried at the same time, you’ll know how I felt.

I certainly wasn’t ready for another dog.  As the months went by, my son didn’t let up about the cat, so I asked around and located a woman who rescues them.  Collin had somehow got it into his head that he wanted a female marmalade tabby cat.  Don’t ask me why – that’s just what he wanted.  I phoned Debbie Edge, the cat lady, and put in our request.  She immediately responded, saying she didn’t have one of those, but if we were flexible there was one very special kitten we might want to meet.  He’d been rescued from the Sacramento shelter, which euthanizes, and was a grey-and-white tabby with a remarkably affectionate personality.  There were no dander issues (I sneeze around some cats), so we arranged to meet.

Well, it was all over in a New York minute.  Cats are supposed to be aloof, right? Not Clive (he came with the name).  Debbie handed him to me and he immediately settled on my shoulder and startled nuzzling me with his face, purring loudly and “making biscuits” with his paws.  I had no chance – the little guy swept me off my feet.

Clive

Do I miss having a dog?  You bet.  We actually got another one a year or so after Clive settled in, but Duke the black lab didn’t quite work out chez nous.  Let’s just say it’s tough to go from Einstein to Forest Gump.  Luckily, my sister and her family already had several horses, dogs, cats and various other critters, so she didn’t hesitate in adopting Duke.  (Erin, for the time he ate an entire 50 pound sack of kibble and had to have his stomach pumped, all I can say is: I did warn you.)

The one time I really miss having a dog is when I take a walk.  I love walking and it always seems like something is missing without a dog along.  Otherwise, now that we’ve found the perfect feline, there isn’t too much downside and a lot of upside.  He never requires a bath, something I couldn’t say for a dog.  It’s way easier to travel, whether for the day or on longer trips (although we have to hide the suitcases or Clive does get bummed out).  And I never have to clean up anything – Clive thoughtfully eschews the litter box and uses some remote part of the garden for his toilet needs.  I suppose we could do without the occasional offerings of freshly killed rodents and birds, but he seems so proud of himself that it would be churlish to scold him.

So what’s the truth about dogs and cats?  That they’re both wonderful.  And we’re damned lucky to have them in our lives.