How I Fell in Love with Cats

I wanted to take a break from the more educational writing and bring it back a bit to what, or who, really ignited my love for cats. Even though I have had far more dogs as pets in my lifetime, cats have always held a special place with me. I was born into a pet having household. My parents already had several pets before I was even a thought. They had bought a small orange and white tabby from a local pet store called Animals N' Things. This tabby, Hootie (named after the band Hootie and the Blowfish), was still only an adolescent when I came on scene. When I came home in my car seat, Hootie was immediately obsessed with his wriggly new playmate; at least that's how my mother describes it. 

Hootie grew to be very protective of baby me over the next few months. My mother would put me down for a nap in my crib and Hootie would jump up onto my windowsill to watch me sleep. This would only last so long until he decided he could get a better view from in the crib itself. My mother would silently scream at him to get out so as not to wake me and shake treats at the door, but Hootie was a pretty adamant guy. Another one of his favorite spots to hang out with me was on my play mat. Maybe it was the colorful, noisy hanging toys that also intrigued him, but I'll just think it was me. 

After a few years, my parents decided to get some more pets. Neo the bulldog and Mushu the pug were thrust into our everyday. They were great dogs, but Hootie really was not a fan. This lead to him often seeking refuge in my room. We spent many, many afternoons together listening to my Now That's What I Call Music CD's on my electric blue boom-box. A couple of years later, when my parents decided to separate, my dad got Hootie and my mom got the dogs. I remember laying on the white leather couch of my dad's apartment on Hamilton Street with Hootie laying on my chest and just cryyyyyyying. Why was first grade me crying? I recall telling my father it was because one day Hootie wasn't going to be here anymore. I guess I was really wrestling with the concept of mortality at seven years old. 

Fast forward to about 2008 and a few moves later, my father is about to move out of his condo in Somerset and there's a problem. The two-family house in Little Ferry we're about to move to doesn't allow pets. My father breaks the news to me that we have to give our 11 year old healthy cat up in order to move. You can imagine how well this went over with me. I was told Hootie went to a shelter and I don't want to think of what happened to him while he was there. Senior cats don't tend to fly off the shelter shelves like hotcakes. I still have pictures of Hootie set up in my dorm room. I'll always remember how he would force his way into the fridge every Christmas to get at the eggnog or how he was one of the only cats I ever knew that preferred belly rubs. He was the best boy and the reason why cats are so special to me today.