To All the Cats I've Loved Before

I never dreamed, way back when in 2000, that by the year 2010, I would be living with ten cats. I also never imagined that I would have the privilege of rescuing another seven cats, or that I would reunite a lost cat with his owner, or that I would introduce a cat in need to a couple that did not know they needed a cat to complete their perfect family.

During the past ten years, I have relied on a simple mathematical formula: One person rescues one cat equals magic, fireworks, connections! There is nothing like the warm body of a cat to bring comfort during the cold, and there is nothing like the cool sensibility of a cat to warm the heart.

To all the cats I’ve loved before—and with apologies to Julio Iglesias—I’m yours!

Here’s to another feline-filled year.

Query of New Year’s Eve: Do you plan to expand your feline family in 2011?

Great Expectations

The look in his eyes said it all: I found my forever home.

This is a heartwarming tale about a cat named Bleu, and I like to think that Charles Dickens might be smiling in heaven when he reads my version of Great Expectations.

I first met Bleu this past February, shortly after I rescued a stray cat whom I named Saint (for the Super Bowl-champion New Orleans Saints: Go Saints Go!). Dr. O.’s clinic generously agreed to let me board Saint until she was adopted. Every day after work I visited Saint, who was perched in her “cage/suite” above Bleu’s. There I was, cooing over Saint and working with her to rebuild her trust in humans, and there was Bleu, rattling the door of his cage as if to ask: Will you take care of me, too?

Saint was adopted within a month, and as I returned to Dr. O.’s clinic regularly during the spring and summer and fall to purchase Lucius’s much-needed meds (kitty Prozac, anyone?), I noticed that Bleu was always there, looking forlornly at me.

So when this December rolled around, I thought I would try to make Bleu's Christmas dream come true. My friend and colleague Emily happened to mention that she and her family were fostering a stray cat. I had to pounce. I suggested to Emily that if she was ever interested in adopting a cat for her two sons, I knew of an orphan who desperately needed a home. And several weeks later, Emily writes with absolute authority that Bleu—renamed Blue to reflect her and her husband's long-standing Texas roots—is resting very comfortably while “negotiating” territory with their Corgi. I was not surprised to learn that Blue responds to affection and is so appreciative of attention. Apparently, he likes to tickle the ivories, too.

I love this photo of Blue leaving Dr. O.’s clinic to embark on his next stage of life. He has great expectations of his future, and I am a grateful Cat Lady for the kindness shown to him.

Merry Christmas to all kitties and Cat Ladies, and to all a good night!

Query of Christmas Eve: Blue, can you play "Blue Christmas" for me?

Those Were the Days

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that Cat Lady would soon be there.

Santa has nothing over me. He arrives only once a year, whereas I make my presence known to our ten cats 'round the clock. I ask you: Is there such a person as a non-omnipresent Cat Lady? I cannot imagine.

Catland is fully decorated for the holidays, and the countdown to December 25 has begun. Here is L.B. waiting eagerly by the Christmas tree for his gifts to arrive. Just a few more days! He and all of our cats know that there will be plenty of wrapping paper and ribbons and boxes to play with, and that this Cat Lady will be cleaning up for several hours after the gift-giving session. Kickoff occurs about 5:00 a.m.

And here is Lydia many years ago, when she liked to show off and race up the tree like an athlete carrying the Olympic torch to its final destination. Those were the days, my friend, when Lydia was young and super-energetic and fancy-free. I have to admit that I miss seeing her swing from the tree's branches like a monkey, although I do not find myself reminiscing about watching our hand-picked collection of vintage ornaments fall to the floor, one by one.

Query of the Day: How long does it take your cats to reach the top of your holiday tree?

Birds of a Feather

Much as I wish I could, I can’t feed every stray cat I see, and I am always saddened when I find evidence in our backyard that a cat has made a bird its prey. But some fine-art birds are meant to be captured, and was it only two weeks ago that bibliophiles were still stalking an original edition of John James Audubon’s Birds of America, yearning to bring home one of the most coveted rare-book trophies in the world?

Audubon’s book has now entered the annals of auction history, with the final gavel price of $11.5 million. Going, going, gone! Meanwhile, the stray cats in our neighborhood keep coming, walking up and down the streets in search of sustenance of the feathered kind. I see a grey tomcat making the daily rounds, as well as a tortoiseshell who arrives for nocturnal visits. The scruffy felines may lack the glamour of the hedge-fund managers or retail heiresses or wealthy Russian and Japanese collectors who were purportedly bidding on the Audubon book, but, just like art collectors, these cats do know how to hunt, very well, and in secrecy.

Part of the value of the Audubon book was determined by its scarcity. For the cats forced to live as orphans on my and neighboring streets, the scarcity of food is simply a fact of life, not a thrill. Yet for both hungry cats and the avaricious winning bidder of Audubon’s masterpiece, birds are a status symbol. I know what happens to birds trapped by cats, but I wonder whether the proud new owner of the Audubon will ever release his birds from his treasure trove.

Query of the Day: Does your cat suffer from ruffled-feather syndrome?

Barbie Vet

When I was a little girl, which was a very, very long time ago, I loved to play with my Barbie dolls. I collected several Barbies, and I enjoyed dressing them in their different (and, now that I think about it, “out there”) outfits. I can’t remember Barbie resembling a career woman, at least based on the wardrobe choices available in the 1960s. There were no power suits back then.

Enter 2010, and here comes Barbie the veterinarian, scrubs and accessories included. My husband and I recently bought Barbie Vet for our niece, whose fraternal twin prefers Thomas the Tank Engine. Getting back to Barbie, what else would a Cat Lady choose as the perfect gift for a four-year-old girl who loves kitty cats?

Barbie Vet is packaged with a plastic kitten who meows on cue. I wonder if I had been given my very own Barbie Vet in my youth, would I have gravitated sooner to a life consumed with cats?

Query of the Day: What do you think of Barbie Vet?