Cat Hater's Club: Part I



Did you know there are internet groups for cat haters? There is the Cat Haters Club, Cat Haters Club of the World (C.H.O.W.), Cat Haters Club on Facebook, and probably a few more. WARNING: If you are a cat lover, you may want to avoid these sights, as just cruising through, I found myself, a self proclaimed non-lover of cats, saddened by some of the comments. While I have never belonged to any official group, in my heart, I have never really cared for cats. Hate is such a strong word, so I prefer something on the lines of intense dislike, but I know I have occasionally muttered, or forcefully blathered, "I HATE cats!!

I am not sure the roots of this loathing. We had many cats freely roaming the neighborhood when I was growing up. Perhaps that is where it began. Pesky things scratching at you and teasing the penned dogs. I vaguely remember a kitten, maybe even two, cared for by my sister(s). I never paid much attention to the creatures and have few details, though I clearly recall a kitten that ate a dead bird and then proceeded to throw up and get very ill. Perhaps that is another scene that aided in my dislike, because as a child, there was nothing I disliked more than vomit...it ranked right up there next to liver. Cats like liver though, and dead diseased birds, so that must prove they are evil, right?

There were other run-ins with cats that I didn't care for. One of my good high school friends, a huge cat lover, had cat hair everywhere at her house, and the smell of litterboxes permeated the air. Strike another vote against cats. I did find it sort of funny when the cat tumbled her Christmas tree, though. I laughed. Their family did not.

A couple of my sisters owned cats. They loved them. I just shook my head and tolerated them. I couldn't fathom this devotion to animals that would jump up on the counter when you weren't looking and snatch your food. One of my sister's cats once dipped its presence into 4 pies we had baked on the eve of Christmas Eve and left to cool on the counter overnight. I would have banished the cat, at least temporarily, I think. She did not. Her animals were rated right up there as family. When we visited her in Germany, the cat was so overwhelmed and agitated by a constant stream of visitors, that she was losing hair and constantly hissing and snarling at us. I felt bad for Kitty, but I still didn't like cats. I must say, though, Kitty had determination, and not only survived that intrusive spring, but survived a few near death experiences. One shout out for persistence and nine lives.

I did smile when another sister and brother-in-law signed their cats' names to greeting cards, complete with paw-prints. They were childless for the first several years of their marriage, so Bob & Greta were their objects/creatures of affection for a long time. Unfortunately, not good around children and getting old, the cats had to depart when the first baby arrived 11 years ago. Since that time, two new cats have made their way into these cat lovers' lives.

Probably the one event that is most responsible for my dislike of cats, though, was the neighbors' tom cat, also named Kitty. One day, some 24 years or so ago, the neighbor lady gave my two-year-old daughter a brush and told her to brush the cat's hair. Apparently, the cat did not like its hair brushed, the lady's son later told me. I returned from work that night, after midnight, to a story relayed by my husband. He had tried to clean the huge bite mark on my daughter's arm, but it still looked sore to me. I cleaned it again. The next morning, my daughter's forearm had swelled to twice its size, and we quickly ushered her to the clinic, where she received a shot and some oral antibiotics, while we were sternly told to inform the neighbor that unless she kept her cat in the house for the next 7-10 days, it would have to be removed and placed under observation. She was not happy and it made for some dicey neighbor-to-neighbor interactions for awhile, especially since she was not inclined to follow that directive. My daughter's arm healed, but my distaste for cats grew, right along with my daughter's distaste for and fear of cats.

In searching, I found this cartoon that perfectly describes some of the reasons for my aversion to cats.




Fast forward to 2009. Over the last two and a half years, we have become owners to two adopted dogs. While I have always liked (most) dogs, we never kept them as pets before, as my husband and I could not come to agreement on rules of pet ownership during our first 25 years of marriage. I really love my dogs (and hubby does too), partaking in some of the same activities as my cat loving siblings: allowing them in my bed, not banishing dogs that steal food off your plate when you aren't looking, signing their names greeting to cards on occasion, etc. Loving dogs is all the more reason to dislike cats, right? Wrong!

Pet ownership must have awakened a new softness in me. (Stay tuned for Part II).