Wondering if I could ever love a cat, I wrote to my friend Mark Hallett, who should know. Mark studies and draws cats for museums, though these cats roamed the earth in prehistoric times. Here's one of his paintings, showing a mother sabertoothed cat and cubs, titled “A Time for Love.”
Not surprisingly, Mark has several cats of his own, including one named Sam. Mark wrote back:
Sam is very loving and faithful, keeping one company while gardening. Many people mistake a cat’s natural reserve (as opposed to a dog’s overt friendliness) for being aloof, but if treated with respect and kindness they’re among the most affectionate of animals.
I imagined Mark gardening, with Sam nearby. I liked that picture. I wondered if that could ever be me. (Okay, I wouldn’t be gardening. Maybe typing.)
I’m not sure I’ve become a cat person, but I may no longer be a dog person. Sure, dogs love you, but you don’t have to work for it. Cats have standards. They’re difficult. Most of all, they’re what a dog could never be: mysterious.
I like mystery. I like Juno. And I hope that someday, if I measure up, Juno will like me.
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