By Kat Stickroth
When I told a friend I was writing a column, she advised I not talk about my pets too often. Yet I feel the need to introduce my readers to Mosie, my cat.
My husband, Richard, tamed this feral kitten over 8 years ago. I tolerated her for his sake, but I’ve never considered myself a cat person.
I’ve nothing against cats and admire my friends who adore their feline friends, but I just don’t get how a person can enjoy a pet that is aloof, independent, opinionated and doesn’t need anyone.
My dog, Brownie, shared the same assessment. Mosie adored Brownie and would nuzzle up to her. But Brownie would look at me and roll her eyes, “Oh, PLEASE! Get this thing away from me.” Brownie was never mean to Mosie. She just wished the cat would go away.
Brownie had been ours for five years before Mosie appeared on the scene. Her domain of our family unit had been established. But all that changed when Mosie appeared.
I wanted to name her Mosaic, for she had a beautiful calico coat with a myriad of colors. But I thought that sounded dumb, so I changed it to Mosie.
I wish I’d named her Speedy, for she chose to live up to her name. She doesn’t get in a hurry about anything. When she was an outside cat, I’d stand at the door and call her to come eat. She’d appear from the tree line at the back of the yard. Upon making eye contact with me, she’d mosey hyper-slow toward the house regardless of how hungry she might be. Sniff a blade of grass that had been there all summer. Stop and watch a cloud pass by. You get the picture.
It felt like she was controlling me, and I resented it. If I closed the door to rest my arm, she’d stop walking until I opened it again, even though she was still 50 yards away.
Our power struggle has a long history, but it came to a head when Brownie died.
I tried to make Mosie into my next dog, which she did NOT appreciate. No Ma’am. No walks. No cuddles. No chasing the ball.
After a few months of futile attempts, ending in a cat bite on my hand, I relented and agreed that she was the cat, and in charge.
Peace has reigned ever since.
Originally published February 3, 2016 in the La Grande newspaper. Reprinted with permission.