purrfectly always

(The idea for this post arrived while I was hiking Wednesday afternoon. I was just the host.)

I’m a cat person. Have been, will be. Though, likely my greatest pet/companion was my dog Taffy, who I received as a puppy present for my sixth birthday back in Wareham, Mass, and who remained my loyal friend until I came home for Thanksgiving my freshman year at Cape Cod Community, when Taffy walked into the living room and nuzzled me and loved me and then went into the front room and passed away an hour later. Talk about devotion. “She waited for you,” my dad said.

And yet, I’m a cat person. Always was, always am. Even when hiking through the Laguna Lake open space after work yesterday and was greeted and wet/nosed/nuzzled by two dogs hiking with their owners, loved to the point where a squeegee would have been nice. And not a kitty in sight, not even a really big one.

Still, I’m a cat person. Sometimes when I walk around the trailer park early in the morning after yogurt and peanut butter three or four or six kitties are in the streets, or on metal porches, or rolling on cement walks. Some are wicked friendly and tumble over when I speak and sing “Kitty speak” and rub against me – hold the drool – and then some look at me with a “What’s it feel like to want?” Which kind of makes me love kitties even more.

That’s it.

Below, a couple pictures ofTaffy and me a few years back, and a few of the felines I’ve tried to honor with my fifth-grade drawing and painting. And a drivebye. Cause, the fact is, I’m a cat person.