Friday thing : cat sculpture

My familiar, in bronze

When I was growing up, we had stray cats come & go around our house. Sometimes I named them and tried to pet them but they weren’t much interested in my affections. I don’t remember any friends having cats so I always figured they were basically unfriendly pets¹ and gravitated toward dogs for true companionship & love. Until I had children, which are like loud messy dogs that learn how to talk back and develop attitudes. When it was time for a family pet, we decided to try having a housecat because even if it wasn’t going to be our best friend, it would at least be quiet & neat and also self-sufficient.

We adopted Rocky when our son was three and he (the cat) stayed with us for about 13 years; he was a very good cat, meaning he gamely tolerated and comforted our small children who turned into middle schoolers then became teenagers. After Rocky, we adopted an 8-year old tabby our daughter called Ginger (Chicken Run fans, in case you missed it); she was also a very good cat, providing ample cuddles & comfort during her last few years in our home. After Ginger died I thought I might go back to having a dog since our kids were then in college, and I figured I could manage the maintenance better. Plus the welcoming, unconditional adoration would feel good in our empty house after school. But no matter how hard I tried picturing myself becoming besties with an adorable little Westie and looking cute walking around the neighborhood in matching raincoats, mostly I really wanted another cozy cat to stay inside with me on the couch. So I found Zelda.

Since we’d had only tabby-colored cats until then, I decided I wanted a grey one for a change. At the shelter, there were a couple were available but Zelda was by far the friendliest. I visited her twice then brought her home. During these past four years, we have assimilated into one being: lounging often, rejecting anything resembling ‘exercise,’ sighing at the slightest discomfort, eating whenever possible, looking longingly at the outside world yet not really wanting to be in it. We are both grey ladies with compromised vision (Zelda has only one eye; I have two but they’re severely myopic).
She is truly my familiar.

For my birthday that year, my kids gave me this sculpture that my son found at an antique store. An uncanny depiction of my Zelda, this ‘authentic reproduction’ of a Jane Poupelet sculpture, “Statuette of A Cat.” She sits on top of the hutch at my desk, beautifully comfy and indifferent to me. Just like the real Zelda, until it’s time to eat.

Real Zelda in bottom pics

1. Not entirely untrue in general, though I’ve grown to understand that some animals (humans included) might be seen as “unfriendly” when really they [we] are simply introverts who have no desire for small talk or unsolicited intimacy. Anyway.