I’ve been a cat lover and owner for most of my adult life. I’m not sure why that is but it could be because as I was growing up, we had cats for pets. The only person close to me who ever had a dog was my grandmother. She had cats, too, but I never got too attached to them since they were outdoor cats and most of them got hit by cars. In those days there was no such thing as a house cat. Her dog also met an unfortunate death when he was killed by a pack of wild dogs one winter. Although I was saddened by Patch’s terrible demise, I didn’t quite miss him as much as the cats who got hit by the cars passing in front of our house.

When my grandmother died, I moved to the city where we were brought up by our Aunt who was like a mother to me. She loved cats and always had one. That was when I learned so much about cats and their behavior. In fact, one of the first presentations I had in Grade 9 was all about Ginny our cat. Ginny came to her when he was a kitten but she thought he was a female so that’s how he got his name. Ginny had no tail so we thought he was a Manx. He could have been but he might also have lost his tail from some kind of accident. We didn’t know so he got stuck with a female name. He was an extremely friendly cat and was always there to meet the kids after their classes at the school which was just across from our house. He was in our lives for a long time entertaining us with his antics. I can’t remember how he died but have a hunch it was because of old age. By the time of his demise, I was no longer living at home.

The next cat to enter my life after I got married and before my daughter was born was another stray who just appeared one night at our New Year’s Eve party. Our house was packed with people and I was too busy making sure everyone had food and drink that I never noticed him until someone asked when we got this cat who was making friends with everyone. What cat I thought? We don’t have a cat. Well, the next day we decided to keep him if no one came to claim him. No one did come so we named him Pogo. He was a tabby and so clever. In fact, his character was almost dog like. He loved people and followed us around like a puppy. He was also easy to train and loved to play games. My husband had him jumping and doing all kinds of things a dog would do. For example, he would walk along the beach with us. When he came to some water, he would simply walk around it and continue to walk on with us. As you probably know, cats don’t like water like dogs do.

He was also a very sensitive cat. I always felt he was reading my mind. After our daughter was born, like any new mother, I put most of my time on her and didn’t pay as much attention to Pogo as I used to. One night, he came to our door looking rather ragged and limping. We assumed he had been hit by a car. We quickly bundled him and took him to the vet where he had a pin put into his back leg joint. After that incident, he was never the same. He seemed to be fading away. About the same time, I happened to catch an interview on CBC with a pet psychologist from New York who was talking about cats and their sensitivity. It caught my attention when he explained that bringing a baby into the household, your pet could resort to extreme behavior, such as injuring itsel,f just to get attention. My mind flashed back to his accident two months previously, when he came home dragging his leg behind him. I was the cause because I had abandoned him. At that time, I was following Dr Spock, many mothers’ guru for bringing up babies, who cautioned us to never let a cat sleep with your baby. That old wives’ tale has since been abolished.

I would like to have a cat these days because I live alone. However, so long as I keep travelling for months at a time, I won’t take on that responsibility. It might be good for me, but not for a cat. I’ve learned my lesson.