Agreeable Friends

When I was little, I wanted to be a vet. I would perform surgery on my stuffed animals with mechanical pencils and make stitching noises with my mouth. I’ve always felt connected to animals, whether it was the sparrow hopping in the grass, the Golden Retriever barking at butterflies, or fuzzy cygnets trailing through the algae of a pond.

I could probably try to blame Disney. Animals were often protagonists in the cartoons and movies. I strongly identified with Benji, watched all of his movies, even though they made me cry.

The longest I ever lived without a pet was my first semester at Iowa State University, and I could barely stand the absence in my heart. I would visit friends’ apartments and houses just to pet their cats and dogs.

It wasn’t long before I bought Herbie the guinea pig from Earl May, and we spent many nights together grading papers, watching television, and munching on carrots.

Of course, we are tempted to anthropomorphize our furry companions, give them thoughts that might not be their own. I do not know how much my two cats “think” about things. But, I know that we communicate.

My big, white cat is my nursemaid and emotional comforter. When I am sick, she purrs beside me. When I am crying, she comes and licks my tears. She spends every night beside me. Often, we wake up in a similar pose—arms outstretched, my head on the pillow, her head on my arm, breathing in tandem.

My little, brown cat is my constant companion. She is always quick to play and give me a laugh. She nestles beside me or on me when I sit on the couch. In the kitchen, she weaves in and out of my legs and meows loudly and urgently. She “talks” to me when she jumps up beside me, mimics the sound of my own “what?” And, so, we speak each other’s sounds.

They both greet me when I come home. My white cat perches on her cat tower; my brown cat lounges in the blinds of the patio door. They wait for me to return to our little “den” because when I do it means food, water, security, and cuddles.

These are two of my dearest friends.

Yes, I know that they could be equally as happy in another home, purring as loudly for another owner. But, that does not change the ways in which these furry companions and I know each other. We know each other’s routines and personalities. We share an intimate world. They know me better than most. We’ve been through quite a bit over the years.

I know them, too. I know that my white cat likes to sit on shoes, tables, and laptop carrying cases. She loves string and will chew things she shouldn’t. She tries to eat plastic. She enjoys joining me in the bathroom when I take a bath. She paces the edge of the bathtub, licks the water, likes me to pet her with my wet hands.

My brown cat likes to hunt and eat bugs. She doesn’t just play with the insects; she finishes the job. If I go into the bedroom, she will almost always come and flop on the bed. She loves to get in the middle of bed when I am trying to make it. She loves to chase soft little balls. Her favorite room is the kitchen where she asks for cheese and newly emptied tuna cans. One of her back paws is deformed, and she is more sensitive of it than her other paws. Only those she trusts most are allowed to touch it. She likes to bury her head in my chest and make a flutter noise—something between a purr and a deep breath. If I was cat, I would be her.

George Eliot told us, “Animals are such agreeable friends - they ask no questions, they pass no criticisms."

In the end, I suppose all they do want is a warm place to sleep, food, and water. Anyone can provide them with these.

Maybe these are the best friendships because they can be so simple. Maybe more friendships should be this way. A person makes you smile, listens to you when you need to share something, hugs you when you’re feeling down, offers you a blessing or prayer whether you ask for it or not—the essentials.

Right now, my white cat is sleeping soundly by my feet, no ear flick or twitch.

She feels safe; I feel trusted.

Such a thing makes me smile and contemplate the dreams of cats.