Tales of a Converted Cat Lover

Growing up I never felt comfortable around cats. No one in my family or even in my neighborhood had them. This discomfort blossomed into a genuine phobia after an experience I had on Koh Samui, where feral cats roamed freely, foraging and fending for themselves.

One evening, saying goodnight to some guests, I left our front door open, unaware a dozen alley cats had slipped into my house. When I went in and turned on the light they scattered in every direction - on the counters, beds, tabletops, under chairs and behind drapes. I was frantic. They were wild, dirty and diseased. I got rid of the last wily critter after an hour and a half of shooing them out the door. Exhausted, I set to work with a bucket of disinfectant to clean the house.

That episode left me terrified of cats, I thought for life. But a conversion lay ahead for me. My family and I visited a dairy farm just out of Bangkok not so long ago. I was still grieving the recent loss of our beautiful husky-shepherd dog. Pukky. I thought about him a lot since I was surrounded by animals.

We were in the milking parlor learning how to milk cows when a tiny black kitten jumped off a windowsill onto my husband sweatshirt, climbed to his shoulder and settled. My husband thought it was great. My only thought was, "fortunately, it didn't choose me."

In an instant the kitten was on my shoulder. I stiffened and hunched up my shoulders, hoping it would drop to the floor. He hung on and rubbed his cheek against mine, purring loudly in my ear. He must have known I needed a lesson in cat and it worked. At least a small amount of my fear began to melt at this sweet gesture.

That introduction began a weekend of togetherness. The kitten followed us everywhere around the farm. So like a dog, I thought. His bravery impressed me as we walked among the calves and hogs. Afraid he'd be trampled, I picked him up. He tolerated it for a few minutes then leapt down to do his own fearless exploring. He had no fear of the cantankerous old rooster that flew scratching at everything that came near his hens.

The kitten often managed to get into the farmhouse, strictly forbidden to all the barn cats. But clearly he didn't see himself as on of them. He even slept with us, thanks to my grandson who kept slyly opening our bedroom door and slipping him in. When it came time to leave, the farmer's wife, who had 28 other cats, asked us if we'd like to have the kitten. It was a stray left on her property from another farm. She called other farmers and they knew nothing about the cat: And he seemed to like us. I couldn't believe that the dog-lover/cat-hatter was saying, "Yes, OK, we'll take him."

That was four years ago. Shadow became a suburban indoor cat and a companion cat reluctantly, but now he's the picture of contentment. He constantly delights and surprises me. For example, he began kneading us before settling down on our laps.

He seems to teach us something new every day about catness - the fun, elegance, agility, tidiness, mystery and coziness. But most of all, he teaches me what a gift it is when on of God's most beautiful and innocent creatures freely gives its heart to you.