One Thing or Another: Cats, Kittens And Chaos
One Thing or Another: Life, Aging, and the Absurdities of it All
By Mark McNease
We recently lost another beloved cat, if you can refer to ending their lives as mercifully as possible that way. It’s both a euphemism and a truism: the space where Peanut had been for over five years is empty now. I left the soft orange runner on the floor by the kitchen sink where she ate, separately from our other girl Wilma. It reminds us of her, and it will always be where she had been. I’m also turning her litter box into a flower garden, with her name on a small marker. But she is gone, and it’s a sadness that will remain as long as we remember her.
We’ve said goodbye this way to five other cats over the past 17 years, and it never stops being one of the most difficult experiences we accept into our lives in exchange for sharing them with animals. The only thing more I’ll say about it is that it always feels like a betrayal of their unwavering trust, and yet we are entrusted too with making sure they don’t suffer more than dying inflicts on them already. It’s a terrible guessing game.
Enter the 10-month-old James, a yellow/orange tabby, our first male, and the first kitten we’ve had—technically until he turns one year old, at which point he becomes a cat. We’d hoped for an affectionate feline who would at least hop up in the bed when the mood hit them. I’m reminded of the expression, “Be careful what you wish for.” After three weeks, we wouldn’t have it any other way, and he has been a loving, attention-seeking, disaster-averting ball of wish fulfillment.
This is the most affectionate cat we’ve ever had, including Jessica, who lived for nearly twenty years and slept on my pillow every night for most of them. James loves to jump up and insert himself between us, in a most indiscriminate way. Most of our cats have tended to be ‘my’ cat or my husband Frank’s. It a matter of natural selection, with no personal slight intended. But James is an equal-opportunity intruder, who just wants to plop down on the bedspread or curl up on a pillow between us. Whose cat he is depends on which way he’s facing in the bed.
The energy a kitten has is staggering. He’s fast and quiet, appearing anywhere in less than a moment’s notice. Sometimes we only know he’s there because he hasn’t met an ankle he doesn’t want to rub against. His curiosity is a marvel and a risk: something is going to get broken, we just hope it doesn’t harm him and that it’s not something priceless. Fortunately, we don’t have much that is besides our cats.
Most importantly for me, he and our other cat Wilma became quick friends, neither being perturbed by the other. They eat side by side, and I have to stand guard a little because James always wants what’s in Wilma’s bowl, even though it’s the same thing. They play, which is essential for both of them. And they make a very good May-December couple. Wilma is about 9 years old, and she and I are very bonded. Now she won’t spend her entire day on a couch cushion, and we won’t fret over her being alone when we travel.
Speaking of which, we have a cat sitter who comes twice a day when we’re gone. Between that expense, vet bills and the cat food, they’re almost as expensive to maintain as we are. But they make our family, they create a home we love to be in, and they bring joy more regularly than anything else in our lives. We said we’d never get a kitten, but there’s another expression for you: “Never say never.” When we keep our lives open to new experiences, you can be sure we’ll get them.
Read previous One Thing or Another columns in this easy-reading volume
One Thing or Another is a collection of humor columns that takes a look at life, aging, and the absurdities of it all. From our culture’s refusal to use the word ‘old,’ to the sometimes comical consequences of aging in body and mind, if not always in spirit. Collected from the author’s personal columns, these short essays will make you chuckle, recognize yourself, and sometimes grimace at the not-always-funny price we pay for simply staying alive.