Points on Pets

Saying “Yes”

TWO STORIES IN HONOR OF ADOPT-A-CAT MONTH

It was 5 A.M. and my mother-in-law’s newly rescued cat, a still nameless 5 year-old, was crying. I can’t see much without my glasses, but I could make out little white paws sliding in and out underneath our closed door. That was the moment I knew: Not that day, but some day, I was getting a cat.

The irony wasn’t lost on me, even at 5 A.M. My cardinal rule of dating had been “no men with pets.” I love animals. But the allergist had been very clear, and my body had often reiterated the wisdom of his stern warning against pets. I could never put someone in the position of having to choose between a loved person and a loved pet. I hit the jackpot when I fell in love with a man who was allergic too. We had fish and two (oddly amusing) aquatic frogs. But it was only a few months after our wedding that I knew. The cat outside the door would need a home one day, and it would be ours. I tend to follow rules, but — despite the pile of allergy medicines that followed — I have never regretted breaking that one.

June is Adopt-a-Cat Month, and I can think of no better way to tell you about the joys of a feline family member than to tell you two very different adoption stories about two very different cats. Smoky Tiggs Burns enjoyed a few months with my motherin-law before a long illness took Pat from us. Smoky spent every day of that last week visiting the hospice room with us, tucked quietly on a couch in the corner of the room and offering comfort whenever called upon. We had permission, but she was so well-behaved that the staff rarely realized she was there until they spotted the litter box. One even offered her a home. But my husband and his mother