Of love and kitties

Accepting kitties means accepting the messiness of life into our homes. They are cute and destructive and time consuming and cuddly and not rational decisions at all. 

Kitties are not of our modern world. They are not a good cost-benefit choice. Weber would not approve. 

Kitties are more ancient and more wondrous. Kitties are the primal force of nature brought into a domestic world of calm and controlled experience. 

Kitties remind us that life is messy and that messiness is a necessary glory. 

I wasn't a cat or dog person growing up. 

I'm allergic to both. 

I like dogs plenty. They are helpful and enthusiastic and always want to do the right thing. 

Frankly, they remind me too much of me. 

I love cats. They are the version of me I day dream about. They are exactly who they are no matter what the situation. They are exactly the thing that I can't quantify as a social scientist. 

I've put down my share of kitties too. My first was the Mighty Kahn, who was given to me by my sister. Kahn was a hunter, a killer, a fucking savage. I'd say she was loving but that would be a lie. Kahn allowed you to be in her presence. She was always the top of the social pyramid. Her grace was a privilege. 

I lost Beaker too. He was my favourite. We aren't supposed to have favourites amongst the living but that is obviously untrue. I have favourite family members, and students and children for that matter (although the latter changes rapidly). Beaker chose us. He showed up one day and came in our house and became part of our family. 

I also lost Squeak and Squish and Widgeon. I love them all and I miss them all as well. But Kahn and Beaker are my favourites still. My new kitties may give them a run for their place, but I doubt they can take it. 

First loves are hard to shake. I was smart enough to keep all of mine. 

That means putting them down is even harder. There isn't a natural life course to having a cat or a dog. They attach to you quickly and completely and add something to your existence you didn't realize wasn't there. 

And in the end you kill them. It sounds harsh. And it is for us. For our pets it is usually an act of courage and compassion. You are taking a situation they cannot fathom out of their control and making it part of yours. They are sick and dying and in pain and you are forced to betray their love for their own good. 

I wished our pets died without help more often. But that would mean they died alone. Despite the pain and heartache and self-doubt and questioning I am glad I've been there at the end. 

The last bit of life is messy too, but only for our hearts and souls. It is a quick needle prick and heartbeat check and an acknowledgment they are gone. 

Kitties are a reminder to ourselves that social bonds are most important and that social bonds are always broken in the flesh and remembered through our family stories. 

And any family story that doesn't include a story of love and heartache of a good pet is a story missing chapters. 

Thank you kitties. 

Thank you Dad. 

Thank you past and present and all the joy we've had.