If I were to turn this whole blog into a cat blog, I’d have an inexhaustible well of stuff to write about. I’d never have to ponder what’s on my own mind. I would subsequently bore myself to death. The general idea with all this blogging whole business is partly that I like the thought of going back, in a few years or so, to read about what we were up to … what I was thinking, or how I felt.
However … every now and then I’ll write about our McDuff because he is a family member … he is my friend, and none of the three cats I’ve lived with, has had his picture taken this often! Didn’t have a camera with the previous two.
I like to take pictures of him, and he doesn’t mind … he’s very patient. Cats, ducks and little flowers … that’s what I like to take pictures of … not that there’s anything wrong with that, I think.
McDuff is a timid, little lad … a little bit shy, but not scared of people [except one]. He just needs a little time … to sniff them out, so to speak. By choice, we don’t have a great social life, so he doesn’t get to see too many new faces.
He had four, gray sisters … I remember how little he was when we picked him up, adopted him … they were all sleeping in a big, gray pile — he and his sisters.
Funny how they — even though their vocabulary is pretty much limited to «miau» — are such totally different personalities. These three, that I’ve had … Hadassah (Persian blue), Murphy (Sacred Birman) and McDuff have had very little in common, personality-wise. Picky eaters, but that’s about all. Yeah … another thing — they all liked fresh linen in the bed. When I’m changing the bedding, he sits and waits for me to finish so he can jump up and have a really good snooze. He might even try and jump up prematurely 🙂 Hadassah went underneath the covers … sometimes I didn’t notice, so when I went looking for her, I saw a big bump on the bed.
It’s nice to have a cat. Before 1986 I wasn’t a ‘cat person’ at all … I didn’t even trust them. Couldn’t even imagine sleeping in the same room as a cat! I was so biased. Then I went to visit a friend, who had just got a black persian … Oscar. Spent the weekend there, and was surprised how nice it was. He was such a cool cat — I’d thought they all would be climbing the curtains or some such. Oscar was friendly and slept a lot.
The Monday after that weekend, there was a small ad in the local paper that stood out … it was like that ad was calling out to me: «persian kittens for sale …big fur». I thought … ‘what the heck — I could always go and have a look’. «Have a look!» Ha! I was sold from the first moment … the breeders had only one left when I got there, she handed me Hadassah, we looked at each other and it was Love. She lived to be almost 16.
In Quebec, I hadn’t really thought of getting a cat. My whole life had changed with the move to a new country and everything so that had not even entered my mind. Strangely enough … the person who suggested I’d have a cat is also the only person he cannot stand. He hissed at him. Must have been something in their personal chemistry that clashed. Now it’s been more than two years since they met, but I think it would be the same again, were they to meet.