Five Life Lessons I Learned from My Cat
When someone gets their first pet, cat or dog or whatever else, it’s a test of sorts. An exercise in responsibility. Can you take care of another living thing? Can you clean up after it? Even if, say, it pukes all over your couch and you only notice once you’re heading out the door, late to a shift? Sadly, I’m speaking from experience on that one. Ah, cat puke, the best way to start your day.
At least it wasn’t my bed. Though I’ve probably gone and jinxed myself by putting that out into the universe.
Cats really are a learning experience, both in the mopping-puke-off-your-couch way and in other, less tangible ways. There’s a lot that they can teach us with their particular style of living. I’m going to attempt to avoid anything too sappy for everyone’s sanity, but please forgive me if I do venture into nauseating territory. I have a big soft spot for the crazy little furballs.
Growing up, I had plenty of experience with cats. My family had three. Oreo, a tiny kitten when we got her, the runt, was “my” cat. By that I mean my parents did all of the work required to take care of her, and I dangled toys in front of her face and occasionally fed her. It was the agreement, though, that she was “mine”, not my brother’s, and I wanted my family to know it.
I picked her out, didn’t I? I played with her. She loved me best (that one was debatable but I liked to believe it).
I was an eight-year-old kid. I didn’t know anything about what owning a kitten was really like. Shoveling poop out of a box? Nah, I’ll let my parents do that. She was a cute little fluffball, and that was all I cared about.
We had named her before we even met her. We knew we wanted a kitten and we knew we would name her God of Thunder. The idea that a cute kitten would walk around any corner of the house to the heavy beat of the Kiss song of the same name was too adorable not to realize. We rescued her when she was a mere 6 weeks old after she won us over by being the only kitten in the litter who physically walked over to meet us. Not only walked over, but actually hopped over a retaining wall that separated our yard from the neighbors. Now, the God of Thunder has blossomed into a healthy 13 year-old tabby, who is extremely ornery, has an aversion to kids and oddly loves dates. But the first day, that’s the day I will always remember, a day that God of Thunder showed me the havoc one little kitten could wreak.
Feeling deep distress at the loss of a dearly loved pet is an exceptionally individual experience. Many of you may be astonished at the intensity of hurting and grief you undergo each time you think about your expired pet………… Yeah! Snuggle, my dear boy expired one year back at the age of ten years and today I am standing alongside its burial chamber sobbing incalculably……..I miss my dear cat!
As stated by the Vet, the cause of its death was hypertrophic cardiomyopathy…………I don’t believe it……………………………….Snuggles was so healthy and used to have regular checkups……………………………
You see! Misery can’t be made public because each one conducts it on his/her own.
Do you know why I named it Snuggle?
Well! When I bought it from one of my friends, it was a delightful kitty cat hardly a few months old; but it would readily move itself into an affectionate and relaxed position by surrounding its forelimbs around my neck…………for that reason I named it Snuggle. As far as I was concerned, coaching a kitten proved a lot undemanding for me than training a grown-up cat. Important information was that, I found it tough to coach Snuggle to build up decent and upright practices.