|Me and Bobby in front of our old Philco TV - 1953|
I love cats. Unfortunately, my husband does not. So all these years of marital bliss, we never once had a cat occupy our home.
The only cat as a pet I ever had was a gray tiger stripped tomcat named "Bobby." I was around twelve years old when Bobby came into my life. He was a kitten my father found in the plant where he worked building trailers.
|My brother John hugging MY cat, Bobby, Christmas Day 1953 - Bobby tolerated others' attention but he was MY cat - I knew it and he knew it|
He was named after my first boyhood, homoerotic crush, Bobby Murdaugh. If you're out there Bobby Murdaugh speak up now or forever hold your silence.
|My brother Isaac and Bobby - as you can see Bobby is just tolerating being held by Isaac|
|Bobby in my linoleum floored bedroom - he was my buddy|
unceremoniously took my first and only pet away from me to his certain doom. No "I'm sorry son, it had to be done." Nope, just returning home one day and No More Bobby. That was Pop. Over the years I came to realize that whenever we had a pet that didn't have my father as the focus of his or her ultimate fealty, that pet was gone. He did the same thing with one of my Mother's favorite black cats.
Since that time I haven't had a pet. When Bill and I got together fifty years ago one of my first suggestions was that we get a cat as a pet. Bill wouldn't have it. Bill grew up torturing cats. When he was a teenager he thought there was nothing funnier than tying a tin can on a cat's tail and watch the cat run away in a panic. That was the worst of the "torture" he would tell me anyway. So having a cat was out of the picture for our domestic relationship. We got a dog (Pomeranian) instead. Bill said "They were just like cats." Well, actually they aren't but we did have a succession of very loved Pomeranian dogs (five altogether) until Bill put a stop to that after the last one died in 1998. He grew so attached to our dogs that he couldn't bear another loss. So from 1998 to the present, Casa Tipton-Kelly has been pet less.
I still love cats. These days I get my cat fix by reading my friend's and relatives who rescue cats. My blogger friend Jon in Texas takes care of a dozen or so cats his Cat Lady neighbor oh so ungraciously dumped on him. Bless you Jon.
|Scruff (the newest addition to Jon's household) and his Resident Cat Scratch|
My lifetime friend Larry and his family rescue cats (his wife and daughter both work at a local ASPCA) who are otherwise unadoptable. Bless you Larry and your family.
|Larry and Kerouac, one of his dozen or so "house cats". Kerouac was a malnourished kitten, near death, when rescued by Larry son Darryl.|
Then there is my blogger friend Ray of Raybeard. Ray lives in England and takes care of the cats in his neighborhood. Bless you Ray.
|Ray's cats - comfortable and secure in Ray's home in England (I wonder if they meow with an English accent?)|
I have been following my niece's Facebook postings (she is my brother Isaac's daughter) of her ongoing cat rescues. I am in awe of these folks who are so unselfish that they put no limited on their time or finances to care for some of our unfortunate feline friends. And it is not without noting than none of my friends are that financially well off to take care of these cats but they find a way.
Recently my niece Dawn has been posting about "Atlas", a kitten she found near death. Dawn is determined to bring this cat back to health and a happy life. Folks, there are two kinds of people in this world. People who care about critters like cats and those who don't. I am proud to say some of my friends are those who care.
Whenever I get down and morose, I think of my generous, unselfish and altruistic friends who have devoted their lives to make the lives of a few more domestic felines better. Bless all of you.