Those of you who are cat lovers will probably understand this statement (and the feeling) immediately. Cats (in truth, all pets) can own you.
Although they are known to be aloof, skittish and terribly prideful creatures, it’s been my experience that certain felines can also be the most loyal, most steadfast and loving of companions. Once they find you worthy, a cat will love you with all it has for as long as it lives.
I’ve been lucky enough to have two such cats so far in my life, interestingly of the opposite color, one jet black, the other pure white. One I owned as a girl — walked over all the other kittens to be picked from the litter, waited at the bus stop every day and followed me to neighborhood babysitting jobs and waited outside. When my husband came into the picture, the cat, by then older and set in his ways, made a point of expressing his displeasure.
That cat owned me, in the most obvious, most constant way possible.
The next one to come along started out as a present to my daughters, a little white fluff ball abandoned and afraid of everything. Except when the neighborhood Rottweiler came calling while my girls were out in the yard alone. That cat put his little fluffy body between those terrified kids and that snarling dog and would not move. In fact, he even hissed for good measure. He slept at my side every night for most of his life. He was gone three years before a younger cat of ours would dare come up into that spot.
He owned me, pure and simple. No one else was allowed in.
It was as I was lying by that empty spot last night I started thinking about how nice it was to be owned in such a way. To have such a constant, obvious, wholehearted display of love and loyalty. How I miss that feeling, though I’m working (yes it is work) on building it with a buff colored little guy, with none of the cat gracefulness or ability to sneak up on things. I’ll let you know how it goes.