by Marianne McFarland

My family has never been what you might call “cat people.” Sure, we’ve had cats throughout the years, but we’ve always collectively considered ourselves “dog people.” Still, when a cat follows you across the street and proceeds to get into your car, you realize that you just might have become a cat person … at least as far as the cat is concerned.

I was leaving work (at Washington School) when an orange-and-white skinny cat followed me across the street to my car. After a quick sniff, he hopped in. I made sure he didn’t belong to any one nearby … and that was when I became a cat person. Sort of.

Washington, the cat, became a part of the family; but he was a typical cat in that he could do without you as long as his food bowl was full. We love him dearly and always feel honored that Washington gives us the privilege of petting him on occasion.

About a year and a half after Washington’s adoption, my husband came home from work with a teeny, tiny jet-black kitten, a litter pan, and a smug grin. “Look what I found under a orange tree!” he exclaimed. He’d found the mama dead on the side of the road— and there were two other kittens there, too. One kitten was all orange, and one a grey tabby.

I was surprised to hear that he‘d already taken the other two to Cat House on the Kings. They determined that the kittens were about four-and-a-half to five weeks old. They also let him know that they were unable to take the black kitten, due to a lower rate of people adopting black cats—as well as judging if the ones that do want to adopt are pure in intent.

They gave my husband instructions on how to keep the baby safe (by keeping her in the bathtub!) and how to ensure that she bonded with the family. We followed directions, endured a few scratches and bites and played hours of dragging yarn across the floor.

Berryjuice (my creative son’s idea for her name) has truly become a part of the family, with one exception: that would be Washington. He still seems a bit miffed that we would find the need to have a feline other than him around. But for the most part, he ignores her existence.

However, we no longer consider our family just “dog people.” We’ve truly become cat people as well. We get to enjoy plenty of nose taps, biscuit-making, and loud purring which make us smile, relax, and be happy that the little black kitten came to stay.

You can find more animal rescue, therapy animal, and other pet related articles in our pet section.

Marianne McFarlin lives in Reedley with her husband Dwayne of 31 years. They have 2 kids; Bethany 30 married to Richard, and Zach 26. One granddaughter Caroline 5. When not rescuing cats, Marianne is a VAPA tech for KCUSD.