Regular readers of this column know I am obsessed with my yellow tabby cat BJ. BJ is adorable, loving and kind Ö basically everything you would want in a friend. The best part is we never fight. BJ canít speak English, but he does talk to me regularly.
When I get home, heís usually right at the door meowing at me, pawing at my legs so Iíll pick him up and nuzzle behind his ears. He sometimes meows when heís unhappy with me, though it doesnít last very long. If I accidentally step on his tail or kick him, he angrily meows at me and returns five minutes later to cuddle. Itís the perfect relationship. Iíd marry him if I werenít already married to a human person and polygamy werenít illegal.
Despite being in love with my kitty, I have to admit that I stray sometimes. Iíve been volunteering at the Berryville Doggie Thrift Store on Saturdays, and they just brought in the sweetest white kitty cat youíve ever seen. His name is Blackjack. Heís the store cat, and he loves being petted and held. He sleeps on a doll bed in the back, which makes him even cuter. When I met him this past Saturday, it was all I could do to avoid stuffing him under my shirt and taking him home with me. Holding him against my chest, I couldnít help but think of the beautiful life we could have together.
This is a problem I have with all cats. Cats on the street, cats in the animal shelter, cats outside my apartment, cats on Spring Street Ö I love them all. Any time I run into a cat in public, I instinctively bend down to pet the kitty and talk to them for a bit. Yes, Iím one of those crazy people who talks to animals I donít know. I mean, how else would I get to know them? Weíre never going to become best friends if I donít introduce myself. Without that initial conversation, weíll never meet up for brunch or binge-watch The Bachelor together.
To be clear, I have never actually taken a street cat into my home. I have no way to know if that cat has an owner, especially living in such a rural area where few animals wear collars. A few weeks ago, I ran into a black and white kitten on the road next to my apartment. The kitten was running in the road, and I was worried about it. So of course I carried that sweet little kitten down the road asking people if they knew where the kitty belonged. When I found the owner, I had a bittersweet feeling. It was wonderful to reunite the pet with its owner, but I wanted that kitten. I had already envisioned our future. Ideally, Iíd like to have six cats. Thatís impossible where my husband and I live now, but I hoped the kitten I found could help me begin my journey to owning a whole lot of cats. I pictured living in a nice big house, with that kitten hanging out with BJ and our family being complete in the best way.
It looks like Iíll have to wait a while for that to happen. When I talk about it, my husband tenderly reminds me that heíd like to have three cats and no more than that. But maybe heíll change his mind. He loves BJ as much as I do, so heíd love all the other cats I bring home.
ē ē ē
Samantha Jones is associate editor for Carroll County Newspapers. Her email address is†Citizen.Editor.Eureka@gmail.com.