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Cats

My daughter and her family have cats — two of them. Ginger is a beautiful Calico and Charlie is a beautiful black cat. They’re pretty good cats (as far as cats go) and rarely climb on tables, cabinets or furniture, but when they do we spritz them with a water spray bottle. They will look at you like you’re the one that was climbing on the furniture and then they will leave the room.

When the family is home the cats get plenty of attention. The grandkids pick them up and carry them in their arms like babies and those cats love it. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. Those cats rub against everyone, waiting for someone to reach down and pet them. They are pretty lovable, if you love cats — the problem is, I don’t.

One weekend everyone went away and left me with the cats. Since I was the only one in the house, they wanted attention from me. At first it was subtle, a little rub here, a little meow there, but eventually it became demanding. They demanded attention from me, but again, I don’t like cats.

Ginger, the calico, kept rubbing against me and raising her tail higher and higher, like a helicopter. I didn’t know what she wanted but when I went to the refrigerator to get water, she was standing there watching. I got some ice and a glass of water and poured some into her dish. She eagerly drank it, which reminded me to give her some food. As soon as I put the food out, Charlie ran into the kitchen so she could get her share. Charlie is much older than Ginger and not as friendly. Most of the time Charlie stays up stairs because the stairs are too strenuous for her, but I guess she was hungry and wanted to eat so she came into the kitchen. No problem, I got enough food for both of them.

Since I fed them I figured they would leave me alone — they didn’t. I went in the family room and started watching TV and wouldn’t you know it, both cats joined me on the couch. I was going to spritz them with the water bottle but it was in the kitchen and I didn’t feel like getting up. They knew it and made themselves at home, right next to me. I rubbed them for a while (because I didn’t have a choice) but soon I got tired of them and went into the bedroom. When I entered, I started to close the door to keep them out, but they were too fast for me and ran straight in the room and wouldn’t you know it, on the bed! Those cats were testing me.

After shooing them off the bed, I went to my computer and started playing games. They came over to me and rubbed against my leg. I decide to get off the computer, watch TV and play with Charlie and Ginger.

After spending the weekend with the cats, we have a new found love for each other. I still do not like them rubbing all over me and I still spritz them if I see them on the furniture but I also take time to rub them and say sweet things to them. Every so often I will call them grandma’s fur babies. I’m looking forward to another weekend alone with them.

Be blessed in Jesus’ name.

Mary Simmons is a columnist for The Kenbridge-Victoria Dispatch. She can be reached at Marysimmons6@hotmail.com.