I am a dog person. I grew up with dogs. My spouse and I had a series of dearly loved Dachshunds until we retired and started to travel. But life changes, health issues arise, and things are different.  I miss having a dog, we both do, but the reality is that walking a dog is probably nothing we could easily manage.

Since life is now much quieter for us, I thought a pet might be good to have but goldfish, birds, and pet rocks held no appeal.  What about a cat?  Many of our friends have them, testifying enthusiastically about the joy of cat ownership so I started to consider that.

Both the SPCA and the Humane Society have websites showing all the pets available, and I started visiting those websites daily. I even made a couple of trips to both places, seeking the cat that was going to leap into my arms, begging to be taken home to be loved, and choosing me to do it.   That didn’t happen, there was no connection, and I didn’t fall in love with any of them.

The search continued. One morning I saw a new entry on the SPCA website. A female cat had just become available and somehow, she seemed appealing.  A dear friend, who is an impassioned cat lover, went with me to meet her and offer an opinion. (Actually, her solution to any issue is always the same:  “Get a cat”.

The cat’s name, at the time, was Shiva.  She was estimated to be four years old and not much was known about her history, other than the fact that she was abandoned and found on the street in Elko. She is incredibly beautiful.  No, she did not leap into my arms, begging to be taken home; in fact, she was trembling in fear. Even more so when she was put into a cardboard travel container after I had signed reams and reams of papers promising to love, honor, obey and never, ever have her declawed.

Now, the real reason behind my original quest for a cat was for a companion for my husband. I envisioned the two of them curled up together in a chair engulfed in mutual love while I ran errands. That didn’t happen either, but let me continue the story.

I knew absolutely nothing about cats. The first time someone asked me what kind she was I innocently replied “female.   Nor did I have a clue about anything else, not even knowing what I didn’t know. I made a trip to Walmart to purchase a litter box, litter, a couple of plastic bowls, some inexpensive cat food, found a soft towel in the rag basket and thought we were ready.

There is a cozy room in our house where we spend a great deal of time.  The perfect place to watch television, read or nap. This room used to be known as the Den.  When I brought the cat home, I took her in there, closed the door and released her from the cardboard container. The litter box was on one side of the room, food on the other. Most importantly, there was a door that closed.

The first thing we did was to rename her; she is now Molly. She spent the first week in that room, slowly getting to know us and climbing on the windowsill to look outside. We eventually opened doors, and she gradually gained free rein of the house, determining all her favorite places.  That room is no longer the Den, it’s “Molly’s room”, and filled with an array of toys housed in a cat tent next to several scratching posts. My first trip to Petco could be likened to a child’s first trip to a Disneyland; who knew there were so many wonderful things for felines?

We did move the litter box to another location, but her food is still in that room and her idea of heaven is having us in there with her. She doesn’t even want to eat unless we’re there to watch and then play.  She is the most intelligent cat I have ever known.  Admittedly, I haven’t known any other cats but I’m still certain she’s the smartest.  And I’m pretty sure she likes it when I play Brahms lullabies while we’re away so she won’t feel lonely.

Yes, I have become completely besotted. So has Molly, I am “her person “.  Instead of curling up with my husband as I had envisioned, she follows me everywhere, either demanding to play or to be caressed.  As for my husband, she tolerates him because he was here when she arrived but that’s about it and if anyone else comes in the house, she bolts in terror to hide. There was one exception to that, we had friends for dinner one night. Molly managed to position herself so that she could be seen only by me. She clearly was saying that she thought it was time for them to go home.

She climbs up on me, puts her paws around my neck, and purrs to show her happiness.  Sometimes she tells me how much she loves me, or that it’s time to play with her favorite toys or that the garage is scary, or that she wants a treat or that she doesn’t like it when we go out and leave her alone. I know all this because I am now very adept at interpreting the meaning of her “meows”.

It is possible, I suppose, that my behavior is eccentrically questionable or that I’m slightly deranged. I don’t think that’s true but even I began to worry a bit the other day. She needed to get a booster shot and I heard myself tell Molly was “time to go “bye-bye in the car-car”.