Lessons on Rescue and Commitment

We Gibsons have a reputation for pet purging, and in keeping with habit, we've been considering whether to keep our two cats or not. One is so clingy she can make you a little nuts. The other is weird.

Weird Marshall

Recently one of my daughters told me I am not a dog person. It surprised me, but as I thought of it I realized she's right. I don't want to be greeted when I get home, or have my walks include someone pulling me down the road and stopping to sniff at every tree, fire hydrant, etc. I don't want to play frisbee or buy funny little sweaters. I don't want to be kissed by a dog - ever. I don't want to walk around my back yard with the shovel, trying to look like I'm doing something else. I like other people's dogs, but mostly because they are other people's. So my daughter - who actually held a birthday party for her dog where everyone brought their dog and painted ceramic food dishes to take home - speaks the truth.

I've had cats for over 40 years. Every single one a rescue. One from the rafters of a barn who looked more like a badger; one from a nasty shelter in the middle of nowhere, one who mooched from the entire neighborhood - we adopted him and named him Mooch - and our current two cats from the local shelter. Miss Kitty is a calico. She looked like she should sit in the kitchen window;

Miss Kitty and her killer instinct.

she was half-starved, had ear mites and a respiratory infection. $750 later she was nicely fattened up and free of creepy crawly critters. Marshall, the yowliest thing I'd ever heard, with a tail like a lemur, completely gray with green eyes. Trying to socialize Marshall - whose Daddy and Momma likely lived in the woods and ate mice and lizards for dinner - has been a bit like trying to turn Howie Mandell into a dentist.

We considered finding Miss Kitty a sweet older woman who would love a clingy cat and not put her on a diet because she has issues with abandonment and eats about 15 times a day. But how on earth to find someone to take Marshall? The minute the doorbell rings his four feet skitter across the wood floor and he goes flying up the stairs to hide under a bed. A two day visit from our grandkids leaves him showing signs of PTSD for days.

We made the decision - take Marshall back to the shelter - he's neutered and has all shots, front claws gone, nicely fattened up and maybe someone will fall in love with him. Take him home before they realize how strange he is. Regarding clingy Miss Kitty - we decided to put an ad on our neighborhood bulletin board and note that she had to be an indoor cat. Where we live outdoor cats become dinner for coyotes and such. 

We left to go on vacation for two weeks, with the full determination that when we got home we'd 'deal with the cats'. Find them homes, take a cat break, and eventually get a cat that we paid enough money for to prevent personality issues. 

Til I thought of rescue. And commitment. And changing old habits and patterns of behavior. There was a time when I needed rescuing - spiritually, physically and emotionally; I still do now and then. 

So we looked our two cats in the eye and told them they're staying. The fat, clingy one and the one who'll likely still be running for cover when the doorbell rings ten years from now. I need frequent reminders that some things in my character need bolstering and these two quirky creatures give me just that.

But I still don't want to be kissed on the mouth by a dog. Ever.