I Like Chicken, I Like Liver...

                                                                   

I thought I would take Valentine’s Day and stretch out the love over an entire week, so I will be posting stories of love (I promise not too much mushy mush!) all week long, or whenever I find the energy to blog.

What does that have to do with the title of this post? You are asking. Well, this is post is about more of a bittersweet love story that starts 12 years ago in the land of childhood wonder. I have not divulged much information about my immediate family on here and I don’t really plan to, but my family growing up was one of those families that were begging to have a small zoo of pets in their house, but my mom was not really having it. It took years for her to finally fold and let us get a dog, Scruffy, a grand beast (actually small mix bread from the pound.) He was a wonderful dog, but not enough to fill our (my sister, my brother, and my) animal lovin hearts so; we naturally jumped for joy one day when my dad informed us there was a family of kittens born down the street.

We begged and begged to get one and then I do not remember what happened next but I’m pretty sure my mom said no and my dad took us to go get a kitten anyway.  All I know is what my sister CONSTANTLY reminds me of to this very day that I picked out the cat. When we went to go look at the kittens, there were 5 or so, she wanted the all-black one, but I loved the look of the fuzzy gray and white guy. Well somehow I won and we got the gray and white one. This would become important later because we were to find out over the years that his personality was anything but cute and fluffy. He HATED being cuddled or touched for that matter. He was the solitary type, which is fine unless you are a family with three youngsters who want to play with a squishy kitty. And it was never forgotten that I am the one who picked this unlovable creature.

Well the years passed and eventually my sister and I moved out of the house. Every year I would go back to my parent’s house I would comment on how the cat was still kicking. He would usually just wander through the living room on the way to the door to go outside. He was very predictable like that, always coming and going. In his 12 years he never ran away, he never left the yard. He just liked to do what he liked to do and was stuck in his ways.  It was difficult for us because we wanted to show him love and affection through physical touch or sharing a space, and all he wanted really was to be left alone.

On Saturday, Merlin (I named him too) the cat passed away. My sister felt like we never showed him enough love and I told her that he never wanted to be loved that way. Regardless, something else happened, my family came together (well over social media) and took a moment to remember our childhood cat. In those moments my family and I shared the same emotional bond so in a way, the cat gave us back our love. He brought us together. He said thanks for all of those years you let me do my own thing. And that my friends is its own kind of love.

So now I pay tribute to Merlin the cat (had I had more time and help I would have wanted to turn this into a song but it is what it is): 

I didn't want your love like that

I didn't want your love like that

I wanted it on my own terms

Chasing mice and jumping on birds

Cause I like chicken 

And I like liver

I'm just a solitary critter

I didn't want your love like that

I didn't want your love like that

I am a misunderstood cat