The Cats and the Christmas Cookies: A True Story

I usually resent and deny the accusation that I'm too crazy about cats. About our cats in particular. Our cats are not spoiled. They are just treated the way cats deserve. Ask any cat.

Cat lovers out there, you're with me, right?

A Personal Invitation

For instance, Gemma, our Havana Brown mix, requires a personal invitation to come to a meal. We feed twice a day, and the other cats are always there on time, sometimes even early. They tell us when we're running behind schedule. Not Gemma. She waits serenely in whatever cozy spot she was curled up in when mealtime arrives.

"A mangia!" my boyfriend shouts out (Italian roughly translated as "Come and get it!"). Five sleek bodies create a low tide of cats around his ankles. He serves each cat their respective bowl in their designated spot (always the same spot for each, always served in the same order).

Then he goes looking for Gemma, her bowl in his hand. They have a ritual. She will be waiting for him, usually standing up in her cozy spot at this point. He leans in toward her and she stretches forward and sniffs his nose. Sometimes he even gets a little head rub on his chin. Then she's off like a bullet to whatever spot she's chosen to eat in that day. He follows and puts her bowl in front of her and she digs in. He doesn't mind doing it. She's not spoiled. She's charming.

After the meal Gemma heads to the kitchen sink and waits expectantly. Her servant, I mean, my boyfriend turns on the faucet to get a small stream of water and she drinks her fill. Spoiled? Of course not. She's delightful.

Each of our cats has a little quirk that's catered to around here. Is that spoilage? No, that's love.

They Think We're Nuts

So why do some of our family and friends think we're off our rockers?

Three or four cats sleeping on the bed at night? Nah, that couldn't be it.

More cat furniture than people furniture? No, that wouldn't do it.

Reluctance to travel because we can't bear to leave the "babies?" Surely that's not it.

We don't do things we think would be bad for them. No people food, only high quality cat food, food that's measured out to avoid excess pounds, regular checkups and vaccinations, and they aren't allowed outside unless they're on a harness. That's what people should think about. Not the fact that we have more cats than hands and almost always have a cat in hand or on lap when we're at home.

Maybe We Are Nuts

But something happened tonight that gave us pause about our mental states.

We received a Christmas package in the mail from a relative. It contained some attractive holiday food bins. We opened one and found what looked like cookies. No, not a cookie, more like a bar with a dark filling. We speculated on what they might be.

"Do they have chocolate?" I wanted to know. I mean, come on, let's get the important stuff out of the way.

"Can't tell," was the answer.

I took a closer look. Didn't quite look like chocolate filling. It actually looked more like a home-made fig newton, only with varying sizes and shapes.

"Try one," I suggested. I don't care for fig newtons.

He did and proclaimed, "Not a fig newton."

"Maybe it's date filling," I said, and took a bite.

The consensus between us ended up that it was most likely some kind of date bar. Not too bad tasting, kind of mild.

So we had a few and then put the rest away and the incident was over.

Until a few moments later when he turned to me, an odd look on his face, and said,

"What are we going to say when they ask us how we liked the home-made cat treats they sent?"