Life requires cats

Technically, my first cats weren’t actually my cats. Princess, a big, long-haired, pure-white female and PJ, an even bigger, long-haired, tortie male belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Pearce who moved in next door when I was nine.

My brother and I had always had pets, but a medical diagnosis of “allergies” had limited us to a hamster named Sleepy (he was mean), then a guinea pig we called Puff-Puff (she was sort of mean too) and finally two gerbils, Cathy and Pete.

Me holding my pet gerbil Cathy.
(Looks like I'm wearing my older brother's hand-me-down pants.)

The hamster and the guinea pig found new homes, but the gerbils turned out to be great pets. We loved playing with them and building them obstacle courses out of shoe boxes and cardboard toilet paper tubes. But a gerbil is still only…well, a gerbil.

PJ and Princess were indoor/outdoor cats and within a week or so after their arrival I had befriended them. Early mornings and after school I would go in search of one or the other, and it didn’t take too long before they made regular trips to look for me.

I loved them both, but of the two, Princess was a bit more of the social butterfly. She and I spent hours together. My father, a self-professed hater of cats, helped me make a bed for her by removing the rockers from an old doll cradle which I then carefully lined with a blanket that I had crocheted so she could take a snooze in the garage while visiting on chilly winter afternoons.

As the months went by, Princess became a regular visitor. One summer evening as the self-professed hater of cats sat outside reading the newspaper, the story goes (as he tells it) Princess leaped into his lap. I can almost hear him saying, “Well, hello there cat!” (That’s the name my dad calls all cats.) Like the Grinch at Christmas, my cat- curmudgeon father’s heart grew three sizes that day. A few months later he brought home from the Beaver County Humane Society a puppy for my brother and a kitten for me. Allergies be damned!

Misty and Tiger

Me, as an awkward tween, holding my beloved Tigger

Misty and Tiger, or Tigger as we later called her, quickly worked their way into the family. I still spent time with Princess and PJ, but Tigger was the one I would look for after school, and she got the new crocheted blanket. Years later, when I left home for college, Tigger was who I missed the most.

I got a gerbil to keep in my dorm room. But gerbils are…well, gerbils. I’ve learned that life requires cats.

Tigger on the crocheted blanket I made for her.
Its colors, purple, yellow, and white matched my bedspread. :-)