My Life's Experiences - Living Book Assignment

Title:  Memoirs of a Wanna-Be Cat Lady

Abstract: Watching her life spin out of control, and realizing that the goals she set as a young woman were no longer attainable, Teresa decides to take charge of her life and become a knowledge information specialist.  Along the way, she collects a few cats.

Four chapters:  Childhood; Young Womanhood; Early Old Womanhood; Middle Age

Subchapters:  Stella; Baxter; Elvis; Jasper (my four cats)

Conclusion:  Maturity is knowing your limits, learning to live with them, and changing direction in order to adapt to them.

Stella the Warrior Cat.  Once killed a three-foot snake by herself; brought it back to us, dragging it along by the head.  Stella survived two falls from our fourth-floor balcony as a kitten, a 6-week walkabout in hostile India territory, and peeing on my husband's foot.

Jasper, aka Le Pouf.  Currently laying on my chest on his back, purring loudly, and begging for tummy rubs.  Jasper loves attention more than any living being I have ever known, and will sit for hours in full costume for photos.  He's also perfectly gorgeous and extremely soft.  Jasper is the perfect cat, except for those moments when his ear accidentally gets into one's mouth.

Baxter.  My hero.  I found Baxter as a tiny kitten, no bigger than my hand, with one leg bitten off by a rat.  He survived the amputation, the trip to the US on the big, noisy airplane, and rules the house, despite his small size.  No muss, no fuss, no claws, no blood; Baxter rules by sheer psychological dominance.  I have seen him stare the dog down more than once.  Baxter rules.

Elvis.  A cat's cat.  Elvis was a desperate attempt to help our mentally ill son feel better about himself; in accordance to said son's preferences, he had to be black and male (son: "like me").  Elvis prefers men over women; night over day; and is the only cat who answers the door every time someone comes over.  Tail wagging (yes, wagging), he inspects the newcomer and then walks away.  We joke that Elvis channels our son (now in residential treatment), but it is eerie how well they do interact.  I believe that Elvis was a gift from God; a cat with a specific personality that meshes with our son's; not an easy task.  Our son believes that he has implanted mini cameras within Elvis' eyeballs, to watch us.  Enough said.