Jennifer's cats

Jennifer's Himalayan cats, circa 1982    Her cats of today       My dad with a cat!

We grew up loving animals.  We did have the occasional dog in our house, but it was more the exception than the rule.  We were not really successful with that until we were in our late teens.  On the other hand, rodents and birds were quite popular.  Guinea pigs, budgies, hamsters, cockatilels, and  gerbils were all the rage.  We built sand castles and Lego forts for the four legged beasts and the two legged kinds enjoyed our constant company.  If that wasn't enough, there was whatever we could find outdoors and bring inside.  Bugs, frogs, toads, snakes; anything that could be obtained with a pair of eager hands.

Cats were never on the list of welcome creatures.  At least, that's what I understood.  My dad grew up on a farm and had a certain fondness for dogs, but I think he saw cats as the local vermin exterminators and nothing more beyond that.  My sister, Jennifer, saw them as clearly desirable, although unobtainable as a family pet.  Not that this stopped her.  She would sneak these mice-assassins into her room and hide them wherever they wouldn't be found.  I do not know how many she had over the years, but she became very good at feline subterfuge.

I consider myself fairly knowledgeable in the care of pets of all kinds but I don't hold a candle to my sister.  As an adult she has had fish, turtles, tortoises, dogs, pigeons, all matter of rodents, and the list just gets more bizarre after that.  Her favourite though, #1 top of the column best-beast-ever is the cat.  The first cat that was a "family" cat was a white Persian she named Sambo.  I have never had a fondness for cats, and this thing took a disliking to me.  I suppose the feeling was mutual.

What was funny about Sambo was that he was pretty high strung.  I suppose for a cat that is a standard order trait.  I remember he was walking on our desk and was right over the telephone when it rang.  I tell you, NASA could have saved a bundle by attaching their payloads to a freaked out cat.  Sambo lived to be 24 years old.  I was in town and dropped by my sister's to see her.  Sambo was still there.  I hadn't seen him in over ten years.  One look at me and he let out a blood curdling HISSSSS and disappeared.

Then it was a pair of Himalayans (above photo, left) and a continuous procession after that.  A couple of years ago she had to put her last cat, Cinders, down as its health had significantly declined.  He had lived to be 18.  She decided to call it quits and not get any others.  It took two days of deep sorrow and longing for her to capitulate and seek that familiar furry companionship which she had become accustomed to.  An animal rescue facility brought salvation to her grief and a new history of cat bonding began.  She has two of them as of today (above photo, center).  Their niche in her home is one of mutualism - a symbiotic relationship where both parties benefit.  They are fed and well cared for, and she gets the affection she knew as a young girl, only now she does not have to hide them.