How I Learned to Love Pussy

By Imani Williams
PrideSource

I was never a fan of cats. The phobia traced back to my pre-teen days when my neighborhood 70s peace guru taught Bible study to the kids on my block. Her name was Paula and everyone loved her. She was 'different' in her own right. She wore daisy dukes before they had a name and was the crush of all the teen boys on my block and at least one pre-teen girl, yours truly. In addition to daisy dukes, Paula had blonde hair that she wore in two very cool braids along with a peace headband and the funkiest colorful halter-tops ever made.

As sexy and cool as Paula was she came with a flaw. She was a cat owner. Paula's cat was a mere nuisance to work around, always nipping at your ankles and in my case hissing at me. However, I was always eager to spend some quality alone time with Paula. So, each week before Bible study began I devised a way to make that happen. I volunteered to help with the refreshments before the rest of the kids arrived.

One particular Wednesday I cautiously placed napkins and chips on the dining room table as Paula took a baked to perfection bunt cake out of the oven. I thought I would die when the cat climbed on the table and ate a chip from the bowl. I died a second death when Paula laughed and swatted the cat off the table but left the chip bowl for people to eat from. I was too through.

As much as I disliked cats, I loved the treats Paula served. There was, however, no way on God's green earth that I would eat from Paula's table ever again. No matter how much prayer went on before or during our weekly sessions.

Adding insult to injury, the cat quietly walked up behind me as I sat on the couch trying to work out this dilemma in my mind and taunted me further by raising his back and hissing at me while clawing at my arm.

On that day I vowed that cats and I would not share the same space. I have had friends over the years that have owned cats but who loved me enough to put the cats in other rooms when I visited.

My lover came with a cat. Because I love her, I got used to Jolee and we've become very close as cat and human. When my girl and I decided a companion would be good for Jolee I went to the Humane Society to check out some kittens.

One kitten looked in my eyes and reached for me through his cage, catching my attention. I fell in love on the spot. I named him Courage. He is a rare Manx, a tailless breed. He is white, with tan features and handsome as they come. He has, in no uncertain terms, stolen my heart.

My girl and I call Courage our 'love child.' He is teaching me to have patience in this crazy world we live in. Something that I find helpful as I go through my daily activities.

Courage is nine weeks old and getting stronger and smarter every day. I find myself at Pet Smart and similar stores looking for things to stimulate his mind and body. These pet stores are as close to wild kingdom as I ever need to come. Nevertheless, I am spending countless hours in said places, and online finding out what makes my Courage tick. I make sure he is on time for his shots and that he is comfortable. His purring and affectionate nature has brought me two months of sheer pleasure.

As I contemplate whether to make his holiday gift a "Litter Maid," which at $150 is costly but perhaps worth it, I think back to how I said I would not clean up after another breathing being. I lied.

I hold my breath as Courage and Jolee feel each other out. Jolee at a year is now a full-grown cat and three times the size of Courage. He must know in his spirit that he will be larger than her in a few months. Therefore, he plays rough and I, being a protective mother, hold my breath as he finds his way.

As I watch these tabbys getting used to each other I am reminded that in this life it helps to use the words "I'll never" sparingly. We never know who or what might steal our heart.