Some months ago, and it might even be a year ago, my cat Thomas died. As cats go, he was okay. We adopted him when he was already a year old because he seemed to be beckoning to us. My girls actually wanted a kitten, but the older and wiser daughter decided that we should review the older cats at the pound. Of course, we were goners. He was big and fat and handsome.
But . . . from the gitgo, he was not the kind of cat we were used to. He was not friendly (and that's an understatement), though he became slightly more social as he aged. He was known to be unexpectedly mercurial, terrifying children and sending my partner to the hospital with an infected bite.So, it was very interesting to hear my mother, who is no lover of animals, proclaim that she misses Thomas. And, she further denounced Ernie, the adorable beagle in my household, as a pest.
The revelation. When my mother visited, Thomas would emerge from his hiding place, as cats will. He would then give her a sniff or two and wander away, as cats will. On the other hand, Ernie the beagle would insist on sitting next to her, behind her, trailing her for crumbs, under her feet. Ernie is a needy child. Thomas was independent and sometimes minimally attentive.
My mom has never been able to deal with any neediness. To some degree, she has passed this somewhat difficult characteristic along to me and I am in a state of constant self-examination about my responsiveness to those who need and love me.
Who knew? If I'd seen this awhile back, I'd have just named her a cat person and understood it all.
