An excerpt from my autobiography What I Think Happened.
… And that, dear reader, is how I came into this world. Now much of my life has been forgotten by the sieve of memory, but some moments in my childhood remain. Take my love for animals. Growing up we had a little dog and lots of cats and boy did I love those cats. What I didn’t fully understand is that they aren’t like people. While, at age 3 or 4, I loved being picked up and twirled around with my legs flying out in the wind, cats did not (and still don’t I reckon).
My older sister recalls me spending much of my childhood being covered in scratch marks. I’m not at all sure this is true, that or I’ve blocked it out. I have vague members of twirling the cats by the tail and them running as soon as I set them back down. They didn’t exactly stay for a chat. Apparently they like having their vertigo firmly in tact. Fools.
I loved my little kittens so much I wanted them with me all the time. Even when I went on our rocking horse. How convenient then that the horse should have a compartment under the seat in which to put things. I remember the cats didn’t mind going in, the first time. Is it so wrong to want to share experiences with your pets?
I’m glad to say I did grow out of that phase in life, destructive love. It helps when you share that love (what has since replaced it) with an animal as high spirited and crazy as yourself. A couple years ago I went to the shelter and got a little spaz named Vader (well that’s what I renamed him, he was called butterscotch or something equally not fitting for a marginally black cat). Mainly because the force was strong with him. Namely the force to interact with me. To this day, although he too has mellowed out, he’ll allow me to still put on his Christmas sweater (which has long since become ‘un-stylishly’ short for him) and just sit in my lap for hours and cuddle. Smart cat…