We have three cats. I know you may not like cats, but we do, and have three. I've always had a cat in the house, since I was about 8.
Our cats are called Sparky, Ginger and Abigail, and Abigail is by far the oldest, at about 17. She doesn't look like an old lady cat though, except that one of her eyes has gone a bit dark and cloudy, I'm assuming with something age related.
Abigail was present at the births of all three of my children, along with me, Antonia and a midwife. So she has been with the children their entire lives. But she has always been a cat who has hated children. When the kids were growing up she was afraid of them to the point where she couldn't be in the same room as a child. She would either hide, terrified behind the sofa, or dash desperately for the door and hide under out bed. She virtually lived under our bed on fact for fear of accidentally encountering a child.
But she has always lived adults. She has always made a fuss of me and others to the point of irritation. She would climb around my shoulders and sink her sharp happy claws into me, and dribble appreciatively purring like a Lambretta.
Then this year something very unexpected happened. Around Katrin's thirteenth birthday, Abigail suddenly found herself tolerant of children. It happened suddenly. Within a few days Abigail had gone from bring a scaredycay to a perfect pet, which has made the children incredibly happy. All their lives they have wanted only to pet and stroke and love Abigail, and all that time Abigail has mistakenly believed that they were her only enemies. But now she has decided to change, and trust, and reach out - she and the children are inseperable, and there is a great deal of love on both sides. Her greatest fear has become her greatest pleasure, and that's wonderful. But the sad thing is that she and they missed out on many years of happiness because she wouldn't give them her trust. So let that be a lesson to us all. From a stupid old cat with one dodgy eye.
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