george is one of us
Few cats I have met in my life have been dog-level affectionate with people, and if they were, it wasn't with me. I think that aloofness kept me from ever getting one. That, and I was always more drawn to canines. I still am. To be honest I am probably more canine than human at times. I live for my community, thrive on other pack members, hunt in daylight, love to run and play, need to know my place in life and adore a good steak.
But let me tell you something, this George character? He's growing on me.
George is one of the boys, as dog-like as a cat can be. He comes when called, eats dog biscuits, and roams the farm like a fat tiger on the lam. His sister, Lilly, moved into the barn a while ago and is rarely seen anymore. After 6 months of being too shy to leave the laundry room I left the backdoor open for her so she could enjoy the great outdoors instead of a dank room. She has remained a full-time barn cat ever since. She'll always be a stranger to me.
George is not a barn cat. Not at all. He's a loafer and a lover. There is nothing he enjoys more than eating, pooing, and then stretching out across the kitchen floor making dog and human walk around him. That's where you can find him most of the time. But that changes when the keyboard to my old computers start clacking. When I write he is always just at my feet, purring and opening his mouth in silent meows of inclusion. He makes no sound but I can hear loud as day, "Hey, Lady! Pet me!" and I do. I reach down and get him under the chin and his eyes shut in that way that makes us all think cats can smirk in pleasure.
I never thought I'd love a cat so much. George has proven to me that some cats have the gusto to live with a pack of wolves. I respect the hell out of him.