Catless

In April I wrote a blog called “Loss.” Those reading it may have thought it referred primarily to the pope. In part it was. However, that same week my cat died. I’m now catless. It has been over 20 years since my home has been without a feline. In fact for all but a few years in high school and college, I’ve had a cat for all of my life. One of the first things Mr. Jane and I did after returning from our honeymoon was to go to the SPCA and pick out a cat. We added a second some years later.

Now, however, we come home to an empty house. I’ve discovered that not all those middle of the night noises that I always assumed were the cat moving around were actually the cat. I now blame them on whatever that wildlife is that gets under the house (raccoons? chipmonks?) or squirrels in the attic.

Years-long habits are hard to break and I still look for the cat bowl in the kitchen or mistake a bunched up jacket on the floor for the cat. It feels strange to see Mr. Jane stretched out of the sofa without the cat, definitely a man’s cat, curled up next to him or nestled in the crook of his arm. I used to wake up at night because the cat was being piggy with the covers but now I sleep less soundly.

It brings to mind a quote attributed to Mark Twain – “A home without a cat--and a well-fed, well-petted and properly revered cat--may be a perfect home, perhaps, but how can it prove title?”

So it was excellent timing when someone at work told me her cat had had kittens and asked if we would want one or more. When they are old enough to leave their mother, two little kittens will join our household and we can again prove our title to a happy home. I look forward to be a catted person once more.