One of my greatest pleasures in life is having my cats. They are a source of contentment, laughing, softness – the whole ball of wax called, “therapy.” Many people will say, “naah, I’m a dog person.” Well, I used to be also, once, a long time ago. I still melt when I see puppies – such innocent creatures that just get right into your heart.
My first dog was “Sam.” Short for Samantha. Beagle. The vet called her the “idiot dog.” Very difficult to train. But, with perseverance, she was trained. The sweetest little dog. Lost her to a brain problem caused by a tick.
Then there was “Missy.” She was a wonderful “person” who happened to be a small miniature Poodle. Silver. Had her for 15 years, and the family and I were heartbroken when we had to part with her. Never got another dog.
CiCi, my daughter’s cat at the time, was Missy’s constant companion. CiCi was born in our house. Her mom was named after that cat that was on all the cat food commercials at the time: “Morris.” My son named her, before we knew how to tell the difference between sexes.
I was known as the “cat lady” in the neighborhood. Every once in a while, a little kid would come to the door, holding a kitten, and asked if it belonged to me. I was, thereafter, a “cat lady.”
Patches, Rusty and Romeo came into my life between 2003-2005. Originally, Patches arrived with her brother, Buster. Buster was a special boy. He was soft, mellow, unassuming, patient and he was also beautiful. Unfortunately, he became sick and we lost him at the age of 3. Knowing he was not going to survive, we got Rusty to keep Patches company so that she wouldn’t be alone. It so happened that Patches did not like little Rusty. So, we had to get Rusty a playmate: and in came Romeo!