If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you know how I feel about the whole idea of calling cancer a gift.
As my friend Rachel used to say, “If someone says cancer is a gift, they’ve been drinking the chemo.” Rachel had such a great sense of humor. I miss Rachel’s wisecracks. I miss Rachel.
Some people believe their cancer is a gift and aren’t afraid to say so. That’s fine.
Everyone has the right to live and express their own cancer truths, but as for me, I will never call cancer a gift. Never.
I am grateful for some things and for many people that have come into my life following my diagnosis, but those things and those people are the gifts, not cancer. In my mind there is a huge difference.
One of those “things” that came into my life post-cancer diagnosis was a little black and white cat named Ninja.
I’ve always been a dog person. I grew up with dogs and have always had a dog as an adult as well. I didn’t care much about cats. I didn’t dislike them. I just didn’t like them, or so I thought.
Dear Hubby on the other hand, has always loved dogs and cats.
He’s been telling me for a fair number of years that we really should get a cat. My answer was always no. I always had the same
reasons excuses; cats are aloof, cats aren’t friendly, cats don’t care about people, cats walk on your counters, cats scratch up your furniture, cats need litter boxes, cats don’t like dogs and the biggie – I’m allergic to cats.
After Dear Hubby stood by me through the recent chaos of cancer, I decided well, why the heck not get a cat?
Dear Hubby deserved a cat and a whole lot more. Plus, about a year ago Dear Daughter was fostering a certain tiny black and white cat that no one wanted.
You know where this all ended up don’t you?
Lots of “talking mom into a cat” dialogue ensued.
The surprising thing was the small amount of “talking into” that was needed.
I was ready.
Exactly one year ago, Dear Daughter delivered our new little black and white fur bundle all the way from Fargo, North Dakota. This kitty was petite as cats go. We didn’t know where she came from, how she became homeless or exactly how old she was. She did appear to be young, healthy and very feisty for someone so small, hence the name Ninja.
She’s our little Ninja warrior.
Almost immediately, I realized I had been wrong about cats.
Just as with dogs (or humans) it’s never fair to make sweeping generalizations.
Some cats are aloof, but not Ninja. Some cats are unfriendly, but not Ninja. Some cats scratch up your furniture, but not Ninja. Some cats walk on your counters, but not Ninja. (okay, she does this once in a while, but not very often).
Some cats don’t like dogs, but Ninja does (big relief here). Some cats don’t care (or pretend not to care) about people, but Ninja clearly does and isn’t one bit concerned about keeping up the appearance of aloofness.
In fact, Ninja loves people.
How do we know this?
Well, because she “tells” us all the time.
Ninja is a meower. You’re probably saying, all cats are meowers, right?
Well, Ninja meows a lot and I mean A LOT!
Everyone who meets Ninja says she is the most vocal cat they have ever
Who knew cats had so much to say?
I sure didn’t.
Who knew someone so tiny could quickly garner so much attention and
power influence within a household formerly “ruled” by dogs?
And who knew a little black and white cat could so easily wiggle her way into our hearts?
Though my dogs still take “top billing,” Ninja ranks right up there.
No, cancer is NOT a gift!
But our little Ninja warrior is.
To read more of Ninja’s story, check out this heartwarming post from That Mutt.
Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?
Have you ever adopted a pet from a rescue facility?
How do you feel about calling cancer a gift?