The young shelter kitties reached their sheathed claws to my hand. They knew to be on their best behavior. One had the most charming way of cocking his head to look at you. The older ones just wanted to be talked to. Such a sad, sad place.
Jerry and I only went to donate cat food ours had refused to eat, but of course we had to visit. There was Emma’s old cage, number 22. We are so glad she is in a loving home. We wish the same fate for these cats staring with pleading or resigned faces.
Coming home I said I understood how an old lady could end up with 100 cats. Jerry said, “or an old man.” You see why I married that guy?
Note: That is No. 22, Emma at the top, our beautiful little Persian mix.
I sure do. If you have the opportunity, you might find this post, by my friend bibliomom to be very interesting.
http://bibliomom.wordpress.com
We are of one mind. That was perfectly said. I can’t imagine being with a man who didn’t like cats. Thanks for referring me.
I couldn’t be married to anyone who didn’t like cats either. My husband brought our last two home, apparently he’d just stopped by the shelter with a friend who was looking for a dog and when he wandered by the cat cages and “these two purred right at me”.
I don’t like cats that much, but I don’t hate them either. My wife & I are poodle people. They’re kind of a cross between a cat & a dog. In winter our little girl is always on the rug in front of the fire like a cat. We sometimes call her poodle puss.