Poor Richard’s Almanac

Geez, it seems like none of us here at Poor Richard’s Almanac can manage to keep our mouths shut today. First Richard Saunders, then Silence Dogood, and now our friend Ben are apparently just dying to tell you all something. Some days are just like that.

Spring is well underway here at Hawk’s Haven, and just now I saw the first ruby-throated hummingbird of the season ( a female) enjoying our columbines and hyacinths. This is always a cause for celebration, and I’d like to go on about our hummingbirds. Or about the bluebird pair that’s taken up residence in our backyard for the second season, and the comical sight of the male perched brazenly on top of our mailbox Saturday—what a photograph that would have been! The “Mad Bluebird” would have hung his head for shame. Or about our beloved goldfinches, who have pretty much abandoned our feeders as they seek more privacy to build their nests and raise a new generation. There is so much to write about!

But today, our friend Ben would like to write about a topic that’s always puzzled me: Why some people love cats and hate dogs, or love dogs and hate cats. Our friend Ben grew up in a pet-friendly but catless household. My parents both hated cats and refused to allow any in our home, to the great distress of my cat-loving sister. But the youthful Ben was largely oblivious—I had dogs and birds and lizards and toads and fish, my sister had dogs and birds, my brother had guinea pigs and the infamous parrot, Plug John—we weren’t exactly suffering for animal companionship. And there were always the horses and cows and mules at my grandparents’ and at horse camp every summer, where there were also ponies and peacocks.

It was only as I grew up and became an adult among adults that our friend Ben realized how strong the anti-dog or anti-cat bias was among people. Dogs were “stinky,” “gross,” “muddy,” the cat people claimed. Cats were “sneaky,” “aloof,” “mean,” the dog people insisted. Our friend Ben begs to differ. I have never met an aloof cat or a rude dog. After many years of owning many of each and meeting many, many more, I would like to state a simple truth: If prior mistreatment has not broken him or her beyond repair, an animal will love you and treat you with respect if you do the same for them.

Often, cats and dogs will do much more than that. I have seen many a cat and dog bear patiently with children and adults who squealed and shrieked at them and grabbed them and generally treated them like stuffed toys. I have seen my Maine coon cat Jessie, who spent nine months almost immobilized in a 3-by-3-foot cage with another huge cat in a pet store, respond lovingly not only to me but to every person she ever met. (More than I could have managed if our situations had been reversed and some cats had imprisoned me in a cage!) I have seen my beloved wild cat, Shawn, respond with enormous loyalty and affection towards me and my family and friends, even though her previous owners threw her out in front of my house like a cigarette butt. Animals are capable of great forgiveness and generosity of spirit.

We humans, too, are capable of more than we often give ourselves credit for: We are able to love the ones who love us, even when they are not the ones we sought. I’ve seen many a formerly cat-hating, burly male friend become best buddies with a cat who wandered onto the property and kept hanging around the workshop or garage until he became “Gary’s cat” or “Rob’s cat.” I’ve seen women who loathed dogs become as fiercely protective of the mutts their college kids adopted and managed to leave behind as if they were their own grandchildren.

Here at Hawk’s Haven, we have two of the least prepossessing cats known to man or beast as permanent residents. Our Kittenous has occasioned remarks like “Look at that cat” (not said in an admiring way by any means). And our scruffy old tom, Danticat, always reminds me of the line from one of our favorite James Bond movies, “The Man with the Golden Gun,” when the vacationing Louisiana sheriff turns to his nemesis, a small Indian elephant, and says, with total conviction and perfect truth, “Boy, you is ugly.” The beauty-loving Ben would not have sought either of these cats out. But through their loyalty and affection for us, they have earned their place here. We know that they wouldn’t stand an ice cube’s chance in hell at an animal shelter, but fortune has favored them, as it has us, with a safe haven. They are part of our family, and we love them as they love us.

Our friend Ben has come to believe that there is only one love, though we express it in different degrees. Whether it is love of our Creator or the beautiful world we live in or our pets or our beloved or our family or friends, it is the same perfect emotion, whether it soars or simmers, roars or whispers. When we arbitrarily cut ourselves off from a source of that love, by proclaiming broadly that we hate this or that, we not only diminish ourselves, we diminish our world. Cats and dogs are no more like each other than they are like us. Yet they, like us, are worthy of love. Give them a chance to love you. Give yourself a chance to love them. You’ll both be happier and richer for it.