“There’s not enough time…”


I have a cat.

I’m not really a “cat person” per say. I grew up  with a quasi-outdoor cat, meaning that she lived on our second story balcony and used a Jacaranda tree as her ladder to and from the world.

My father loved cats. All animals really but he had a special fondness for cats because he saw them as smart, playful and aloof. They could take care of themselves, would seek your attention when they wanted it and just as easily dismiss you when they were no longer interested. Now that I think about it, this explains my parents relationship to a tee… but that’s a story for another time.

My father was an adrenaline junkie when it came to playing with a cat. He seemed to feed off the danger of getting hurt by claw protruding paws just to “have fun and see what the cat would do.” I think he liked their spontaneous areal acrobatics, the noises they make and that last effort to get you just when you think they are done playing.

When my mother passed away, I asked my dad if he wanted me to get him a cat/kitten, something he could enjoy freely since my mother was not much of a cat person. He thought about it for a minute and then he said, “there is not enough time.”

Well, needless to say, that was a gut wrenching moment for me and it stayed with me, especially, since he died about two weeks later.

Last fall, I was at an animal shelter helping someone select a dog. While there we tested the top candidate with cats by taking him to the cat room. That is where I met Tyrian. He had just been turned in that day by a family who decided he wasn’t a good fit for them. He was leash and crate trained. He has a crocked tail that curls all the time and he is a Siamese mix. Super friendly and could care less about dogs.

It’s like my dad was there with me. I knew he would love this cat. So I got him.

My father would love this cat. He bosses the dogs around, runs up to us and jumps up in the air with front paws straight up in the air while meowing, he runs around the house meowing and provoking us or the dogs into playing with him by running up and grabbing our legs (claw free, thankfully…no he is not de-clawed).  He comes when called and entertains us all for hours.

I’m glad I have this cat and that I toke the time to make him a part of our lives. My father was right about his timing but now because of what he said I have a cat that brings a smile to my face and an opportunity to keep my father’s joyful mischievous smile alive in my heart.

Have a memory you want to share? Feel free to enter it in the comments section.


One Comment

  • Audrey
    Posted July 21, 2014 at 5:43 am | Permalink

    Reading this post made me smile and remember my dad who is deceased. My dad’s bond with my daughter Jessica included a smart outdoor cat named Kit that my dad allowed my daughter to feed while visiting his home. The rule of course, was ‘never to feed the stray cats.’ My dad loved animals and he knew my mother would not fuss too much if she knew it was Jess feeding the stray cat instead of him. My mother had promised she would never have a cat again after I had a house cat as a teenager and freaked out on the whole household when I thought my cat was dying when she went into heat for the first time. My screams of “Help her!” and “Oh my God, you all are cruel!”when I saw the blood dripping on the carpet. Well years later, Kit became the joy of not only my father, daughter, but my mother and their dogs as well. Unfortunately, Kit was so fertile that every time my dad took her to the vet, she was pregnant. So much for not feeding the cats, because Kit always had a litter for him to help feed, and take to the vet to get shots and fixed.

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