So for a more light-hearted post, I want to tell you about our cat, Olive Oil. Yesterday was her birthday, so it just seems appropriate. Olive Oil is a DSH (domestic short-haired cat for non-cat people), grey and white tabby. She’s beautiful. Like seriously, she has a beautiful little face and those dark eye markings that look like she’s applied black eye-liner in the fashion of Cleopatra. And she has one pink toe pad, which I find adorable (the rest are black).
Olive Oil was actually a wedding present from my two best friends. Growing up, we always had a cat, so I knew I wanted one when I had my own place. My husband, Chad, has a brother with a cat allergy, so he couldn’t have cats growing up. So we agreed, we would get a cat when we got married. And then my best friends did it for us. They took us to a shelter and we chose our Olive Oil from a cage of other tiny fuzzies and we got a good one.
I remember when she was a baby, she was too small to even jump up on the couch, but she would try anyway. Inevitably, she would end up jumping straight into the side of the couch, and it was pathetic and endearing and hilarious. Even now, as an adult cat, she’s still quite clumsy, which is really entertaining for us. She falls off furniture, occasionally runs into things while playing, and still misjudges her ability to jump up high enough to actually make it onto whatever surface she’s trying for.
When Olive Oil was less than a year old, she ate something in our apartment that got lodged in her intestines. We think it was probably a long fiber from our carpet, but whatever it was blocked her digestion and required surgery. Expensive surgery. I remember calling my husband from the vet and giving him the number. It was startling. But when it came down to it, I couldn’t give up on her. She was so small and helpless and still purring, how could we do anything but pay for her healing?
In the long run, she’s worth it. Even after another expensive veterinary visit last year, and the subsequent medicine that we have to administer every night, she’s worth it. Sometimes I look at her and think, she’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, I don’t know how God did it. (I am a sucker for animals– always have been).
Chad used to work a lot of nights and weekends, so I would home alone for hours, except for Olive Oil. And the difference that made is tremendous. Coming home to her (she meets us at the door everyday), having a little, fuzzy being need you, and care for you as you care for her– it’s precious. So I’m thankful for my kitty. I’m thankful for her presence and her personality, her fuzzy face and her clumsiness, the way she always wants to be picked up and the way she sleeps on our legs and purrs, and the way she reminds me that God created all things, each one unique. And He does such a good job creating; He never ceases to amaze me.