I have never cared much for cats. Not that I disliked them, but I just didn't understand why people would choose a cat when they could have a dog. I had heard tales of cats that related to people like dogs, but hadn't experienced it. To me they seemed utterly self-absorbed and self-seeking little princesses who were far more trouble than they're worth--like trophy wives or Paris Hilton.
However, we now have a cat who has owned my heart for nearly ten years. Chloe started out as a tough little critter who didn't care much for people but would rather be out catching birds and mice, unlike her sister who liked nothing better than to curl up in a lap--anyone's lap. Chloe turned up her nose at everyone's efforts to hold her or pet her and didn't seem to like people at all, except for me. For some reason she took to me right away, maybe because I didn't like cats any more than she liked people, or maybe just because I was usually the one who fed her.
In many respects Chloe acts like a dog, greeting me at the door when I come home, following me around the house, curling up on the floor at my feet when I'm reading or on the PC, and she even comes when she's called (most of the time, that is). She's still a fine hunter and likes to share her success. Over the years she's brought me mice, frogs, crickets, and an assortment of small birds, including a live hummingbird once. Thank God we were outside when she laid that at my feet. Thinking it dead, I picked it up to dispose of it and was surprised to feel its little heart still beating. The poor little bird must have been paralyzed with fear. While I was looking it over for damage the bird suddenly shook itself, stood for a moment in my cupped hands, and then launched itself into flight and buzzed away, apparently none the worse for wear.
Too bad Chloe doesn't like water. With a mouth that soft she would probably make a fine retriever. I'd like to see her trying to carry a Canadian goose more than twice her size!
