MY CAT-A-LITTIC CONVERSION

About the Author

I grew up in a dog house. Not an actual doghouse; I mean we were dog people. Cats were these mysterious creatures that lived with other people, not us. I was never a DICK, mind you. I was always interested in cats. But, frankly, I wasn’t totally sure what all the fuss was about. For one thing, I noticed that every cat house (ahem) I entered had this “piquant” odor, and I found it just a bit appalling that people could live with open boxes of poop on their floors. Then there was the fact that the moment I stepped into a cat house, I would develop the same symptoms as a full-blown cold.

Bottom line: I had a certain coolness about approaching cats. Oh, I always tried to make kitty contact, but sensing my hestitance, cats would keep their distance from me. I’d feel a bit rejected, but I learned to live with that.

Then one day, the Power of the Pussycat brought me in from exile. I walked into a friend’s house, and a cat came scurrying up to me with an excited chirp. It began purring and weaving around my legs. My heart wanted to burst—I was being honored by a cat’s affections. Suddenly, I got it. I knew what all the fuss was about. And I noticed something remarkable—my allergy was gone! But more than that: I had been accepted into the Litter of the Faithful. Salvation was mine at last! I’d had my Cat-a-littic Conversion! Now I, too, could put Persians on pedestals and pay homage to Himalayans!

These days, when I enter a house without a cat, I ask, “What’s that weird odor?”