"Love is a harsh and dreadful thing to ask of us, but it is the only answer."--Dorothy Day



I vividly remember the day I got my first pet, a cat named Socks (Socksina for a bit as we thought it was a girl cat). My sister and I were walking home from a friend's house and these two cats "followed" us home. We then proceeded to make them a bunk bed out of boxes, and then be frustrated with the lack of appreciation they showed for our stellar accomodations. We awoke the next morning to find only one cat, and he lived with us, and then with my grandmother, for many years. But as I have gotten older, I have gotten either more allegic, or less unabashed in my love for things that will quickly make my eyes swell shut. It is a sad state of affairs.

So last night, I was having dinner with my friend Nathan at his apartment, when we were visited by a lovely calico cat, meowing at the window, hoping to be let in. We said "No. I'm sorry. We are too, too allergic to you, despite all of your cuteness." But then the unexpected happened. We were sitting in the living room studying, Nathan for Chemistry class and me for my licensing exam, when it got a bit hot in there. So Nathan opened the back door. A short time later, there was a thud, and Nathan says "I think that's the cat." And before I could respond, I saw a black tail poking out from behind a chair. Nathan's reaction was far more logical than mine. He jumped up and began to wonder what it was we were going to do with this cat in the living room. I, however, was transported and quickly became my 6 year-old self. I jumped up from my chair, and with greater joy than I have felt in some time, picked up the cat. Not in a "Wow, I've gotta get you out of here." way, but in an "Oh, look...a kitty." sort of way. I stood in the living room holding and talking to the cat for a few seconds, Nathan standing agape across the room. But then he was jealous, and wanted to hold the cat, too. She purred on cue and mewed just right to get us to find her some food. Then my senses came back to me and I made her eat it outside. About five minutes later the coughing, sneezing and itching began. But we both agreed it was well worth it. We've named her Stella.


nathansethjones said...

I miss Stella, it's true. But the persistent allergies she has left me with outweigh my longing to see her again. The cat must stay outside.

Alisa said...

the name "socksina" reminded me of a niece we have in veracruz who decided to name her pit bull puppy "killeria," after it's dad, "killer." brilliant. glad you had a few good cat minutes before the allergies kicked in!

Jennifer said...

AWWW Socks. . . If I remember right, the house he 'followed us home' from had like 23 cats in the yard and we didn't like how the lady was picking each of them up by the scruff of their neck. When I do manage to catch it every now and then, your blog is always so interesting!