So, Saturday is also known as Caturday in this house. In truth, every day is Caturday given the size of our darling beastie’s personality.
But, there was a time when we had not just Che Fufu, but also Kissochka—a thoroughly Russian cat with an equally large presence and personality, although very different to Che Fufu. Kissochka was my cat when The Cuban and I met. Later, we adopted Che Fufu. Kissochka was not amused but was also wildly protective of the tiny furball who invaded her territory. It was ever-so sweet and ever-so confusing.
Today, The Cuban sent me the sweetest of stories retelling this history from his perspective. In my first reading of it, I didn’t realise it was his writing for whatever reason, although I chalk that up to the utter lack of focus I’ve been experiencing today and other issues weighing on my mind. (Also, his writing in English has improved tremendously in the 8+ years we’ve been together!) But, this story is so accurate and so lovely to read given that it’s how he experienced that time, it’s made my Caturday.
So, I give you, his Story for Caturday, unedited and in his own words:
When I was a kid we had a dog and his name was Lobo. That’s Spanish for wolf. Mean Little-Red-Ridding-Hood-for-breakfast kind of dog. It’s easy to see growing up with a dog would make anyone a dog person. But Lobo didn’t last long. My mom had to give him away because he was so protective he wouldn’t let anyone get close to the kids. I still became kind of a dog person because of my dad. He loved dogs and he had a very smart and sweet Doberman. Not so sweet if you crossed the garden fence uninvited.
Growing up in a misogynist patriarchal society meant having a dog was the typical reinforcement of macho attitudes. Cats were for pussies, that was the mindset.
When I finally could live by myself I didn’t get a pet. I always thought a dog was not suitable to live in a small flat. And when asked about pets I would reply I was a dog person. That was the pet-religion inculcated into me.
One day I got a girlfriend with a cat. I would explain I was not a cat person but didn’t mind cats. When she moved in with the cat I started to realize pet-religion was hogwash. I went through long periods of doubt, insecurity and despair thinking I would end up in dog hell.
It was my dad’s suggestion I’d take some quantum physics that led me to solve my uncertainty. First we had a cat, then a second cat was added to the equation. The cats interacted with each other showing love, hate, and both – love and hate at the same time. I thought it was interesting and sweet… if I was awake. Not so much if I was sleeping and the eye of the cat-storm was passing over my head. How accurate could I predict cat-one’s position knowing cat-two’s momentum? It was all too complicated but the fact Schrodinger used a cat for his famous entanglement experiment made me see the light in the end.
I guess the point of the story is let your child grow up to decide which pet to worship.
And this is how I became a Catheist.
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