I continue to be astounded at these clever and loving cats we're meeting. I'm also a bit irked since I have the only unredeemable cat in the group -- but I'm enjoying all the cyber cuddles. Please welcome Valerie Comer and her cat George.
*George, aka Fur Face, is almost 13 and looks like a Himalayan. His actual lineage is purebred Alley Cat. He was born behind my sister-in-law's couch and dubbed George by her toddlers, who dragged him around by his hind legs and tortured him. This actually made him into quite a tolerant cat. My kids, much older than their wee cousins, weren't too sure about the new kitten's name when he moved to our house, but they decided that rather than Curious George he was the George of Warner Brothers fame, where Marvin the Martian squishily hugs Bugs Bunny and says: "I will hug him and love him and call him George, and he will be my best friend forever and ever."
The most annoying thing about George is that he isn't as attached to his hair as I'd like him to be.
But astounding? Yes, in several ways. We've had open stairs for much of George's life. His favorite game involves touch-and-go tag on the stairs. There are so many directions we can tag him from but he does a superb job of defending all angles. He rarely plays with claws out unless he has given plenty of warning that he no longer finds the game amusing.
The most amazing thing is that he acknowledges his name every single time it is uttered. If he is asleep (on the chair that folks notice does not contain the permanent indentations of any human bottom) his ears will twitch. After speaking to him a few times he will open his eyes and look at me as if to say, yes? What is it this time? The funniest aspect of that is every time my husband calls him, the cat comes running. In the past few months, Jim has been training George to come when he snaps his fingers. I can still scarcely believe that any self-respecting cat would leap to attention when summoned, but the evidence plays itself out for me often!
There is nothing in life that compares to a snuggling, purring cat. Babies grow up, but the kitten remains inside the cat. This Christmas is the first year that George hasn't removed an ornament to play soccer with at least once, so maybe he is growing up at last. He is nearly always ready to snuggle if I need it and makes sure I have something to laugh at every day.
The main life lesson that my cat teaches me is how little it takes to be content. His life is full and complete with a roof over his head, food and water, a litter box, and someone to tickle his tummy. He can play for hours with the simplest of toys; the plastic tab off a milk jug is one of his favorites.
We people get so busy with Important Things that we often forget to count the blessings that God has given us. We fret over what happened yesterday or might happen tomorrow. George, however, is secure just being a cat and living in the present. He trusts us completely to fill his water and food dishes, to scoop his litter, and to come home from work to play with him. Why do we agitate so needlessly in our own lives? Why can we not rest in the assurance that the God who made us loves us and will care for us?
The most annoying thing about George is that he isn't as attached to his hair as I'd like him to be.
But astounding? Yes, in several ways. We've had open stairs for much of George's life. His favorite game involves touch-and-go tag on the stairs. There are so many directions we can tag him from but he does a superb job of defending all angles. He rarely plays with claws out unless he has given plenty of warning that he no longer finds the game amusing.
The most amazing thing is that he acknowledges his name every single time it is uttered. If he is asleep (on the chair that folks notice does not contain the permanent indentations of any human bottom) his ears will twitch. After speaking to him a few times he will open his eyes and look at me as if to say, yes? What is it this time? The funniest aspect of that is every time my husband calls him, the cat comes running. In the past few months, Jim has been training George to come when he snaps his fingers. I can still scarcely believe that any self-respecting cat would leap to attention when summoned, but the evidence plays itself out for me often!
There is nothing in life that compares to a snuggling, purring cat. Babies grow up, but the kitten remains inside the cat. This Christmas is the first year that George hasn't removed an ornament to play soccer with at least once, so maybe he is growing up at last. He is nearly always ready to snuggle if I need it and makes sure I have something to laugh at every day.
The main life lesson that my cat teaches me is how little it takes to be content. His life is full and complete with a roof over his head, food and water, a litter box, and someone to tickle his tummy. He can play for hours with the simplest of toys; the plastic tab off a milk jug is one of his favorites.
We people get so busy with Important Things that we often forget to count the blessings that God has given us. We fret over what happened yesterday or might happen tomorrow. George, however, is secure just being a cat and living in the present. He trusts us completely to fill his water and food dishes, to scoop his litter, and to come home from work to play with him. Why do we agitate so needlessly in our own lives? Why can we not rest in the assurance that the God who made us loves us and will care for us?
Valerie Comer
3 comments:
Thanks for the opportunity to let George meet the public!
Valerie, your George has touched me deeply this morning! Thank you so much for sharing him with us. He's beautiful and I can see the Himalayan in him.
I struggle with being content.
I love cats.
Okay, maybe I can pretend I'm God's kitty and trust Him to provide always. Then I wouldn't worry. Then I would be content.
Sigh ...
Thanks, Pam. I'm glad! :)
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