Writers and Cats

We lost Irene during the worst part of my illness. It devastated me. It devastated her sister, Zoie, too. Watching the changes in Zoie, feeling them myself I wrestled with the idea of getting another cat. For months I debated. I missed Irene’s protective nature and constant companionship—Zoie, though loving, was more reserved and aloof.

I know a loved pet cannot be replaced. Still, the house felt empty. Yet I wondered if it was fair to Zoie to bring in a kitten or good for my husband and me, with the possibility my illness could return. A visit to the animal shelter to give a donation in Irene’s name made all my questions irrelevant. Right or wrong, we adopted a kitten—Maddie Rose.

Cats and writers go together more often than not. Of course, there was Hemmingway, but also, Mark Twain, Ray Bradbury, and Alexander McCall Smith. Those are the ones I remember, not all who mention their cat companions in the ‘about the author’ section of books or articles I’ve read.

It makes sense, too. Cats are independent, can fend for themselves pretty well as long as fresh food and water is available. Simple and doable, even for a writer with his mind too much on his writing, too deep in his story. The writer provides a warm, accessible lap, an occasional pet, plus a convenient outlet for teasing when the mood strikes.

Cats keeps the writer from feeling too lonely, can be a foil for one-sided conversations, (the writer is going to talk to him or herself anyway), and provides a Zen-like purr that taps into the writer’s muse.

Cats and writers have two very important things in common—the ‘what if factor’ and curiosity.

I’ve seen the ‘what if factor’ at work in our new kitten—What if I hit this pen off the table? Will it twirl? Will it bounce? What if I play with this yarn? Will I get yelled at? (I hope so.) What if I jump from the ottoman smack-dab onto the ‘queen cat?’ (I didn’t think ‘the queen,’ Zoie, could get so mad. Think I’ll do it again. I do love it when she hisses at me.) What if I sneak under the dresser? (Never thought I’d get stuck. Oh well…writer will get me out.) What if I spread myself over the keyboard like a puddle? (Can’t see any other good reason for said writer to hunch over the thing.)

What if I use this abandoned road for the setting of my murder? What if love springs between this avid hunter and that gun control lobbyist? What if I use found words for the basis of my poem about fear?

And curiosity. An open door is an invitation, a strange noise, an excuse to investigate. A cat never backs down from finding out. A writer never backs down from a new subject, or a puzzling question.

Cats and writers might just belong together.