How I Gained My Paws (and Frightful Claws)

Ever since I moved to my new village over a month ago, my ever-buzzing mind has been focusing its attention on all the things which play a role in making me happy, more eager than I've ever known to grab its hands upon a me-sized slice of happiness as I adjust to countryside/noise-free life. From achieving the grades I want - and, as schools will undoubtedly never allow you forget, vitally need - to snuggling onto the sofa for a night-long marathon of my favourite shows, it is all too easy to lose count over the countless things which contribute towards my feel-good mantra, of which I never wish to sight as I progress within my life. Yet, throughout the hardships that I - and many others, if not the entire world - have experienced, one thing has always found the cure to lifting my spirits and giving me a reason to burst into a smile at the worst of times: my cats.

Oh yes, these furry, cuddly and extremely genial creatures may appear to be as ordinary as the rest of us, simply only bothering to roll out of their beds for a bite to eat whenever their stomachs begin to grumble every few hours, but for those who have adopted or grown up with cats, it's an entirely different kettle of fish (pardon my foul-smelling pun). For literally as long as my extremely short memory can remember, I've been surrounded by two furry-purrys - an affectionate nickname for my two past-and-present cats, Tom and Jerry (otherwise known as The Originals) and now Bart and Benny (a.k.a. The New Kits on The Block) - which, over time, have come to define myself as a person.

Although one might face an all-mighty struggle to witness a hint of my expressing any emotion or deep-as-a-pot-of-mousse feelings when I'm throwing a hissy fit over the perilous state of my bedroom, I unleash a love as never seen before whenever I'm surrounding by my furry friends, their presence a wake-up call to shrug off my irritation and turn into something as loving as a cuddle (or, in Bart's case, a slap in the face from his tail). In other words, cats bring out the very best in me because, unlike the perils that I might endure whilst standing in a lengthy queue in a shop for hours on end, I hardly need to lift a finger - at least not towards a need-to-be-cleaned litter tray yet - to immerse myself in joy as my cats hang out with me, their purrs echoing in the long cave which is my new home.

As cats have forever featured in my life - indeed, Tom and Jerry were nearly two years older than me when I was born and were constantly by my side, acting like two sharp-clawed, though soft-as-butter guards (unfortunately the same couldn't necessarily be said about nightclub bouncers) - it is only natural that I feel subdued and completely comfortable in my skin whenever one is in my presence, from the strays I see crossing the street to the troublesome kittens my family adopted shortly before Christmas last year. In general, I'm rather shy and would run away at the thought of being thrust into a noisy crowd of people, instantly craving to return to the two pals with whom I'm never afraid of being myself: Bart and Benny. Though I have often wished to hold a proper conversation with them, I find it quite smoothing that Bart and Benny cannot respond to my words because, unlike humans, they cannot judge or turn against me - as long as they receive three meals every day (and a lick from my ice cream-coated finger from time to time), they have no reason to give me the cold shoulder!

My relationship with cats in general - and my former kitties, Tom and Jerry - blossomed into an outstanding beauty when, at the age of eight, I began to be home-schooled along with my younger brother, meaning that I would be spending more time in home and, as it may have already crossed your mind, my two cats. Beforehand, I hardly have any recollections of the time I spent with Tom and Jerry when I used to attend primary school, most of which was taken up with birthday parties, playing with my toys (ah, how I miss the days of being left in the dark over the rudeness of Barbie's bare upper-top) and being glued to the Disney Channel. In fact, my main opportunities to hang out with Tom and Jerry were on the rare occasions that I had to stay off school whenever I was under the weather (or rarely craved the teeth-rotting goodness which was pink-coloured Calpol), but all of that changed when my seven years of home schooling began.

Suddenly, my friendship - or should I say bond, considering that they were indeed my 'honorary' furry brothers? - with Tom and Jerry grew into a love so strong that I blink away tears of a happiness twinged with still-present grief as I write this, immersed in pride that I was able to spend more time that I'd ever hoped as a home-schooled student. Being on good terms with my cats meant more than ever to me because I didn't have many friends which, in a sense, gave me a motive to savour each and every moment I spent with them, realizing that family - in whatever form - was the most important thing that you could ever have.

As I wrote about in frank detail in past entries, Tom and Jerry sadly passed away within six months of each other last year, bringing my world to an abrupt halt. Having maintained my child-like values for as long as possible, my eyes were wide open to a whole new meaning, one of which represented the sadness which followed death. As Tom and Jerry had been a part of my life from the very beginning, losing all that I'd ever known sent me into a dizzying spin because I struggled to get my head around the painfully true fact that, however hard I prayed and crossed my fingers in hope of my prayer being answered, none of them were going to return into my outstretched arms, waiting to give them the ultimate cuddle of a lifetime. Even when I had been swept into the belief that life couldn't be harder at the most desperate of times, the darkest days of my life was the period following both Tom and Jerry's death because, unlike before, we didn't have any cats who could conjure a silver lining or raise a smile on our lips.

Over a year since Tom died and seven since Jerry was reunited with his brother, I still experience a hunger-like craving for the brothers to return to my family, despite discovering fresh hope and reignited love for our newest additions to our clan, eight months old Bart and Benny. If such a dream was possible, I would love nothing more than for Tom, Jerry, Bart and Benny to be together with my family as each of them has claimed a fish-sized piece of my heart (though Bart has developed a penchant for my mum's green plants) which, even after surviving the aftermath of earth-shaking death, continues to live on.

Although many in the same position might have been placing their thoughts on purchasing another box of Kleenex instead of adopting a new pet, the thought of introducing a pair of playful kittens renewed the remaining spark of hope inside of me, giving me somewhat of a break from the grief I was going through shortly after Jerry entered Kitty Heaven. Jerry was my shining light and reason for which I even bothered to get out of bed after his brother passed away because, despite his noticeable sadness, he nonetheless carried on with his duties (for example, going outside in the garden was a daily job) and was a soothing presence when I fancied nothing more than crying my eyes out. At a time when I couldn't have been immersed deeper in my emotions, I knew that adopting two kittens would bring a sense of happiness to my life again and, after being a source of pride for sixteen years, Tom and Jerry would have wanted us to follow our hearts, too.

If I were to go into full detail over the hardship we endured whilst searching and reaching the adoption stages for our two kittens, this entry probably wouldn't be finished until next week, but I'll spare you the difficulties my family and I faced on the bumpy-as-a-pothole journey towards bringing our new friends home, now known as Bart and Benny. In the end, it took two months until our home was ringing with the cries of baby meows and bloody scratches from our newest additions, both of whom endured the most difficult start imaginable in their short, yet hard lives.

At the age of two to three weeks old, Bart and Benny along with their two brothers were found in somebody's garden without their mother - believed to have been hunting for food, yet unfortunately never discovered - and were later shipped off to a nearby animal centre, from which we later adopted them. Despite being noticeably older by the time that we brought them home, Bart and Benny were nonetheless very nervous and had a tendency to scratch and hiss towards us if we came too near; needless to say, the first few weeks was hard work! But, as time has passed and their confidence has considerably grown, Bart and Benny are a million miles away from the tiny, petrified three month old babies they were last year, their playful nature a force to be reckoned with.

As I'm writing this, I keep catching little meows and their 'happy' voice which they significantly use if it's playtime, and it is a sound of which I count amongst my many joys. Adopting two kittens who may or may not have had the pampered life that they - along with the millions of cats on this planet - deserve is one of my proudest achievements because, despite throwing my hands in the air at first and sometimes wishing that I didn't have so many problems on my plate, all of it has been worth it, especially as happiness is utterly priceless.

Wherever I go and whatever I do, I'm determined that cats shall always be involved in their plans as, at times, I could lose my mind without them. Those two months without a feline to stroke or talk to - can I really rely on my little brother to listen to me if the football is on? - taught me a vital lesson, though it is one which I have no intentions of revisiting in the near time future: cats are the very best friends I could ever have. Throughout my fifteen years on Earth, I have only been able to rely on my friendship with cats and family because, as I mentioned earlier, they never judge you for who you are. If only more humans could pay attention to the behavioral habits of cats - their laid-back attitudes is a source of inspiration for me, along with their easy-to-love personalities and desires to be loved.

Since moving house, I'm hoping that I'll be able to volunteer at a nearby cats' rescue centre which, after adopting Bart and Benny from a similar background, would be my way of giving back to the creatures who give me something to smile about. If it wasn't for cats, I wonder whether I would ever discover the true meaning of happiness - and vibration-like purrs - at all. I hope that you've realized it with your furry friend, too.