Don’t let the title fool you, I do not have any (human) children, nor is this a blog about my “biological clock”–at least not in the way you might think. I am a proud “mother” to a furry kid. You might know him from such things as…well this blog photo (he also has rather distinctive mention in Survival of the Flirting Impaired). Our boy is well-loved, and well indulged. He has many of the coolest cat toys a cat could dream of, least of which are two condos–count them: two. This year marks his tenth birthday, and the ninth anniversary of his life with us–it is kind of a milestone.
People in my life marvel at my connection with my cat. Some mutter comments about either my sanity, or my need to have “real” children–it is hard to tell exactly what their point is. Others marvel at how ‘connected’ our boy is to me. Truthfully, he was the first guy I ever let move in with me. Imagine the shock and disbelief amongst my family and friends when they heard I let a guy move in with me–I had to pick them up off the floor when they heard that he was also black and ran around the house without any clothes on.
Back then, my little black feline went a long ways towards transforming my house into a home. He greeted me at the door–hug ready, and he followed me around the house wherever I went. He was my right-hand man. While it was not always easy completing daily tasks with the benefit of feline intervention, it taught me a lot about humor and humility. His purr is nothing short of magical, and in my eyes he is genius wrapped in brilliant. He is our boy!
Both my husband and I were raised in homes reigned by felines. Even still, both sets of parents have lovely felines governing their households. My cat-in-law tolerates me, and for her that is as close to gushing as she gets with anyone. This is not exactly the same with my parents’ two cats. They are quite fond of me–or at least seem to be. They sit on me, donate copious amounts of fur, and demand equal parts attention and cat treats. I think I might be their favorite big bald cat.
When people ask if we want kids, my first response is, “Oh, I don’t think our boy would do well with a kitten.” Sometimes, it actually dawns on me that the inquiring mind was referring to human offspring–it doesn’t change my response mind you. When it comes to the topic of “kids” well…let’s just say that may well be topic for another book–down the road. Until then, break out the balloons and party hats, and knock back the catnip because our boy is turning ten!