It’s National Cat Day

About two weeks ago I got an email that mentioned October 29 as National Cat Day. I'd never heard of such a thing. It's apparently only about 10 years old, and the reason for the establishment of this day is to call attention to the number of cats that need adoption.

I recall my mother quite a few times saying something to the effect that my father's family must have had a thing for cats. I think she was right. I've never seen a picture from my dad's side of the family with a dog, but as far as cats, that's a whole other story. I've got photos of ancestors from over 100 years ago in Norway holding their cats. Considering the living conditions in Norway at that time, perhaps having a cat was a necessity.

I had just one dog as a boy, but we always had plenty of cats hanging around the barn. I do prefer cats to dogs simply because they're not as aggressive and can't knock you down when they jump up. Having one cat is just fine. Wait, I'm married and it just so happens that I'm married to a cat woman. Hence, we have more than one. I think we're at seven. At one time we were close to 30 cats. They were all over the barn. Slowly, thanks to a number of all male cats being born, we were down to one female and six males. The poor female, I have a strong suspicion as to what helped her to her death. At least they took turns.

I do have my one special cat named Ginger. My wife rescued it out of a garbage can in Geneva. She had seen it in there a number of times and she brought the scrawny thing home. I was painting and it got too close and I spilled paint on it. Yet that cat kept following me around. Then I noticed one day that she had caught a mouse in my playhouse. That was good. I have cases of old newspapers and magazines, and some had gotten damaged. I gave in and let her move in and have her own little house. I haven't seen so much as one sign of a mouse in my playhouse for at least 10 years. Keep in mind that we're talking about a former granary remodeled into a man cave. It's got cracks and holes in it.

This cat was earning its keep. I don't know if she was fixed or not, but it doesn't matter. Any cat that gets within range gets a hiss and swat across the face. She's a crab. She must be somewhere around a dozen years old and she loves to kill. Mice, birds, bats, moles, and this summer she went a bit too far when she dragged a live snake inside.
In the fall I sit out in my old shed holding my cat while watching the Packers. I sometimes feel like I'm practicing for the nursing home.
Happy National Cat Day.