Cat House

I never thought I could love a cat. My aversion to cats goes back to childhood. My father detested cats. Honestly, I don’t even think detest is a strong enough word for how he felt about these felines. He had nothing good to say about a cat, ever. I think this hatred was heavily influenced by his father. Grandpa Purdy (yup, that was his name, Purdy–he was the definition of country boy), told stories about ‘getting rid of’ kitten litters from his neighbor Elsie’s cats. You honestly don’t want to know the details of that. My negative view of cats was definitely molded by my paternal side.

As children we used to go and visit Grandpa Purdy and Grandma Beuna (again, that WAS her name and she too was the definition OF country). They lived on the original family homestead out on the edge of nowhere west Yakima. Down the road was their slightly crazy neighbor, Elsie. Elsie defined ‘cat lady’. She lived alone in what once had been a beautiful house but which she had allowed to become completely overrun with cats. I remember Elsie was missing the tips of several fingers. As a little girl, I wasn’t afraid of this, but I was curious if maybe the cats had bit off the tips of her fingers. I don’t think there was ever an explanation given for the stump fingers. Hmmmmm.

Elsie’s house was full of beautiful antiques that were well worn by her collection of cats that roamed throughout her home. I loved Elsie’s house. It was a classic old farmhouse with a huge kitchen and beautiful parlor with beveled glass pocket doors. I think my love of antiques started at that place. So many treasures that were being ruined by those felines. Elsie’s favorite, was a siamese named ‘Sing’ that slept wrapped around Elsie’s neck. Sometimes, when we stayed with our grandparents, Elsie was out of town so we would go and feed all of her cats. One time we counted over 30 INSIDE the house. I can still remember the putrid smell. Then there were the outside cats and of course the 7 skunks that she also fed. Grandpa Purdy and my father could not stomach Elsie’s love for cats and the damage that they had done to her home. In today’s world, Elsie would have been the perfect subject of a reality show on animal hoarding. No one could understand how she could let those animals ruin her beautiful things.

I never thought I could love a cat. When I was young, I went thru a brief period of wanting my own kitten. This was mostly because my best friend Renee’ Lineberg received an adorable kitten for her birthday. I thought she was the luckiest girl in the world. However, the kitten grew into a cat and the attraction was lost on me. Ever since I have had an aversion to these creatures, that is until Kirsten’s boyfriend Marcus brought us a small black kitten to watch for a couple of weeks.

Kaja came to stay with us temporarily. Kirsten had been begging for us to add a kitten to our collection of animals. I told her ‘NO’ repeatedly. Kirsten and Marcus kept sneaking the little thing to our house for me to see and hold, hoping that I would give in. There is something pretty funny about a 6'3" 260 lb boy putting a tiny kitten in his cargo shorts pocket and watching her peek out. I thought I was in the clear when I told Kirsten the only way we were adding another animal to our household is if one of the existing animals found a new home and that DIDN’T mean getting rid of the swamp bowl (aka fish bowl). That slowed her down for a while, until Dean said that we could watch Kaja for 2 weeks when Marcus went on vacation. I was doomed.

I never thought I could love a cat. Kaja came to stay. This tiny, solid black furball with light eyes. She charmed us immediately. The favorite part was watching her stalk our Chihuahua Trini. Poor Trin. She would walk thru a room and Kaja would lay in wait in behind the sofa and as Trin would walk past her, she would launch herself over Trin. It was hysterical. Trin would just turn and look at Kaja with a look that said ‘you are such an idiot you dumb cat’.

After two weeks, we couldn’t bear to think of Kaja returning to Marcus’ house. We were afraid that the rest of the litter would pick on her. After a lot of debate, we decided to find a new home for Trin. One where she could be doted on and receive all the attention that she required. That’s right, we replaced the old girl with the new cuter baby model. Kind of like the CEO that takes up with his secretary. We wanted the new and flashy and younger pet, the one that everyone finds adorable. Not the cranky old hag.

Kaja continues to be adorable. She takes turns stalking each of us and then launches herself into the air as we walk past her. She is such a dope, laying flat on the ground thinking that she can’t be seen if she lays very still. Yesterday, she crawled into a mailing bag and hid, hoping we wouldn’t see her, then she would stick her paw out and scratch at our feet if we got close to her. The kids friends all love her, much different from the dog, whom no one could stand. We still cringe when the doorbell rings, so conditioned we were to Trin going into barking hysterics when guests came calling and that door chime button was pushed. I miss Trin, sometimes, but I do love this little cat. I would say that my father is probably rolling over in his grave that my house is now a ‘cat house’, but I don’t think you can say that about someone whose body was cremated, can you?? I’m sorry that was a bad joke, but the dark side of me couldn’t resist.

Trin, we miss you, but Kaja we are glad you came into our house to provide us with some much needed entertainment.