........ to a Love Affair with Cats
Having been raised strictly with the canine variety of children's pets (albeit cat-sized, the miniature dachshund), I was a new-comer to the world of cats when I met the man who is now my husband and his cat. Until then, I basically considered myself a dog person. But I was soon to be delivered into the hands of the original Kliban cat!
As a child, it was rare that I had any close-up encounters with cats. There was a cat who sought me out to rub my leg and lick my hand with what my dad warmly and laughingly called the sandpaper tongue. But that cat must have been an indoor escapee since I saw him not more than three times. All other contact, which was regular, was with the two neighbor's cats. This involved crying "SICKEM'" to our Alpha-of-the-Block dachshund whenever we spotted one that dared venture into our backyard. Yet there was the time we had custody of a kitten for a day, although I don't remember why. I do remember my family of six squished into an Austin (similar in size to a Volkswagon bug). My oldest brother sitting in the middle with the kitten sleeping contentedly on his lap. This was the brother who "hated" cats. It was at this point I began to question the contradictory reactions of homo sapiens, at least in my own family, to the felis catus.
My husband's cat gave me two gifts. He gave me cat allergies. He gave me the leg and the tail of my pet iguana after he'd eaten the rest. But, I discovered something about cats living with that long-haired tabby bag of sneezes--cats talk. Cats will go to many lengths to communicate with you and this absolutely fascinated me.
We no longer had Putt-Putt the tabby when we moved to a new house on the edge of a canyon, disturbed with on-going housebuilding, where I discovered I was more allergic to the mice seeking new homes than I was to cats. Fortunately, I did not have to adopt one. The neighbor's cat, recognizing the green pasture on our side of the fence, came over on daily visits and took care of the problem. I am forever endebted to that cat�who fortunately was oblivious to my habits as a child of tattling to my dog when I spied a cat in our yard. Of course, this cat was very well- mannered; unlike the neighbor's cats when I was a child which really were obnoxious, roaming at will unneutered, unspayed and howling right below my window at night. So, no matter what the pest control companies tell you, a cat is by and far the best defense, and the only permanent one, against a plague of warm-blooded rodent pests.
Our third, and current home, is on eight acres of land against a national forest. I knew I was in trouble when a king snake followed the trail of a mouse through our garage and right into our family room (evoking blood-curdling screams from my 4-year old.) The mouse duty was assigned immediately to a cat we rescued from the animal shelter who performed his job ably. But my allergies kept him and his successors mostly in the garage at night, or outside during the day, beautiful and wonderful as they were. It only takes one night of escaping from the garage to cause them to become prey themselves either to owls or coyotes, so we lost several .
We were in-between cats and in desperate need of one, when I discovered the Bengal. The thrifty, resourceful side of me could never see paying $15 for a cat at a pet store, not when you can go to the animal shelter and sometimes even have someone hand you one as you stand in line! But the kids and I liked to look at the animals while at the mall. We were often amused that anyone would pay hundreds of dollars for an animal that could turn into road kill the next day. After all, cats are really pretty stupid, right? Wrong, they are hormone-driven left unaltered as outdoor cats and their naturally defensive nature is overwhelmed. Not only had I learned that cats talk, but one of our rescued cats who we discovered was a show-quality Russian Blue, taught me just how intelligent they are. We saw what could have been the Blue's picture in the centerfold of United Airlines' magazine�$1500 was the price on the centerfold's head. Our Russian Blue responded to verbal commands to our 2 year old. He was stunningly beautiful and sweet as could be, and we believe was stolen right out of our garage (since we had learned to be extra cautious about bringing the cats in at night.)
As usual, we entered the pet store as the entertainment relief for my shopworn children. High up in a cage, against but not displayed in the front store window was a spotted, cinnamon-colored feline, the likes of which I'd never seen. He had his paw through the cage attempting to chase the cat toys below that my children were engaged in exploring. This drew our attention to him. Hesitantly, I asked what he was. When they responded "Bengal," I gulped. Of course I knew they'd give me some fancy purebred name instead of tabby or mutt, but there was no harm in wishing. They brought him out and before long we were playing and nuzzling with him. In fact, pet store owners would tell me they love Bengals; apparently they keep the personnel and clients more entertained than any other cat. Pet stores rarely have them for sale, however, because most breeders want to know their cats are placed in loving homes. So this was my lucky day--who knows if I'd have ever met a Bengal by now?
The remarkable thing was that I didn't sneeze or begin the watery nose or eye routine. I decided it must be a fluke. They put away Benny and I tried playing with an angora/persian mutt. Boy oh boy, did I react! I washed up, took some deep breaths and they brought Benny back out. No reaction. I was in deep trouble. I called my husband to see if he could provide me an out from spending $500 on a CAT. Benny came home with us that night and we named him Kipling, Pride of Bengal. The pet store people called him Benny, and they still remember him I told very few people after that how much I'd spent on a cat, and those that I did, I rationalized it by indicating the animal had Asian leopard blood in him. However, my assumption that he would be a great hunter was proven. No mice have ever ventured into our house again and lived to tell about it.
We picked up a couple of cat books which had single pages on the Bengal and remained blissfully ignorant for a year with our terrific hunter. Until one day we were offered a female Bengal that needed a home....
