Make friends with as many cats as you can in your life

“Dogs have owners.  Cats have staff.”

            Colleen P. Kirk

I now own…four cat beds, each with an infant plushie blanket; a folding camping chair, which I keep outside my front door to sit with a cat on my lap, and another of these chairs in my detached garage for the same purpose; several cat toys; a human hairbrush for their fur; three windbreaker jackets to wear when having the cats sit on my lap because they are “biscuit makers” and shedders.  A neighbor lent me a space heater for my garage, so I don’t freeze when sitting there with the cats during cold weather. 

Funny thing is…I don’t own a cat.  But I do have two cat buddies that I love dearly. 

It started out simply enough.  A friendly, gray cat—Gunner—is a fixture at the end of our condominium complex’s private cul-de-sac.  Coming and going from home, I’ve petted and scratched him regularly for years.  He’ll walk up to the Devil himself if he thinks there’s attention to be had.  

Early one summer morning (at 3 a.m.), I noticed through the screen door an orange cat I’d not seen before.  He was sitting near the doormat staring at me.  I later learned his name is Whiskey, and he’d recently been found abandoned in a box on a very hot day, terrified and meowing.  The downstairs neighbors in my condominium building took him in, and he was added to their menagerie, which includes Gunner.   

Due to the trauma of abandonment, and who knows what abuse he may have suffered before that, Whiskey is skittish and shy.  After that first sighting, I’d often see him nervously skulking around the complex. 

One day while petting Gunner, I noticed that Whiskey sat nearby and watched.  Over the next few weeks, he was there whenever I petted Gunner, gradually coming closer and closer, before finally allowing me to pet him.  From then on Whiskey, like Gunner, would come up to me for affection if he saw me outside.         

Both Gunner and Whiskey now became receivers of almost daily petting and scratching.  I’d sit on the steps near my garage to hang out with them.  After they had their fill of petting and scratching, they’d sit by me, or sometimes sprawl out napping.  It seemed they enjoyed having a human bodyguard nearby, and this gave them leave to snooze out in the open.      

About a month after that first time petting Whiskey, while I sat on these steps, he jumped into my lap and curled up contentedly—this changed everything!  I could tell he was very happy to feel safe and loved.  I interlaced my fingers to create siderails with my arms and hunched over while he went to sleep.  Boy, that was an uncomfortable position to maintain, which I did for almost 30 minutes.

In the interest of my own comfort, I ordered a camping chair, which I keep in my garage.  I relocated my routine from the steps to this chair to sit and pet “the boys” and allow Whiskey his lap time.  It was more comfortable, but also afforded Whiskey the opportunity to milk as much lap time as possible, sometimes for more than an hour at a stretch.  When jumping into my lap, he now gave me affectionate kisses and nibbles before settling down to groom or doze.    

Whiskey’s lap time became a daily thing.  Gunner, apparently noticing how much Whiskey enjoyed this, decided to get in on the action, and one day he jumped into my lap.  Now they’re both lap cats.  While Whiskey tends to curl up on my lap, Gunner likes to sprawl out hedonistically. Gunner will go back-and-forth from my lap to a cat bed I keep in the garage, depending on his mood.   

Gunner is the Alpha cat, so if he’s on my lap, Whiskey patiently waits off to the side for his turn.  If Whiskey is there first, Gunner is, to say the least, not a happy cat.  Due to this conflict, I typically give Whiskey his quality time in the morning, when Gunner is still inside his owner’s house, and give Gunner his in the later afternoon or early evening.  Did I mention that cat’s allegedly carry a parasite that infects humans and makes us do their bidding?  Hmm.    

The boys started following me upstairs to my third-floor condominium, so I set up another chair outside my front door.  I sometimes sit with them there.  Two chairs to cover both scenarios. I put another cat bed outside my front door, which Whiskey loves.   

Have I become the “crazy cat lady”?  I found myself often checking out the pet section in Walmart, asking myself: “I wonder if the boys would like this…or this…or this?”  This is how I ended up with first one, and finally four cat beds, a cat brush (from the human hair care section) that Gunner loves, then plushie blankets for the beds, cat treats, and toys.    I now have two of these beds outside my front door.  Why two? 

Whiskey sleeps in this bed almost every day.  Sometimes Gunner, too.  I noticed another neighborhood cat, Frodo, started sleeping in the upstairs bed when Whiskey wasn’t in it.  One night, peering through my front door peephole, I noticed Frodo staring sadly at the occupied bed (Whiskey), so I got a second one.  I’ve seen both Whiskey and Frodo snoozing at the same time, one in each bed, for hours at a time.  It does me good to see these critters happy.   

Cats are smart. They know the sound of my footsteps, front door opening, garage door opening, and car.  A neighbor with a clear view of the front of our building laughs at how they come running at these sounds. They were thrown off for a few days after I oiled my front door hinges!  

Whisky now often greets me at my front door.  It was obvious, he wanted to come inside. For Christmas I allowed him inside.  He insisted on sleeping directly on top of me as I lay on the couch.  He purred and smiled the entire time—yes, cats smile.  It wasn’t easy to watch television with him using my chin as a pillow.  I tried to work on my blog, but he insisted on standing or stretching out on the keyboard. At one point he opened dozens of tabs and somehow messed up the settings for my homescreen. Ten hours later, fearing even he must have limits to bladder and bowel control, I kicked him out. 

I then ordered things to make my home better suited for his future visits: a cat litter box is now set up in my guest bathroom.  There is a forty-pound bag of litter kept there.  He hasn’t used it as of the date of this post, but I’m ready. Oh, and the fourth bed, which I put by the dining room table.  There, all four beds accounted for.  I don’t have nice furniture, but I ordered claw scratch pads—Whiskey loves these. Whiskey may never fully get over the trauma of his abandonment, but I hope our quality time together helps. 

A friend of mine who loves cats baked me cat-shaped cookies. One had orange icing, the other gray. She also gave me a “Cat Dad” coffee cup for my birthday. A neighbor gave me a “Cat Dad” t-shirt—hey, what are they trying to tell me! Last year, we carved Halloween pumpkins in the company of the cats. I carved a pumpkin to look like Whiskey. This year, the plan is to paint a pumpkin gray, so there’ll be a Gunner pumpkin, also.   

I love that Whiskey and Gunner get happiness from our hanging out together. Frodo doesn’t join us, and he has never let me pet him, but I’m glad that he enjoys the cat bed.   

My advice is to make friends with as many cats as you can in your life.  Their purring and contentment are good for the soul, mine and theirs. I suspect cats might be a superior alien species down here biding their time until they take over Earth.  Keeping on their good side, just in case, seems prudent.