The Cat's Meow

This is another writing assignment from my composition class, a comparison/contrast essay, that I thought I would share. Enjoy.

The Cat's Meow

Growing up, my family always enjoyed the company of cats, and though my father was hardly passionate about animals, he did not object to having a feline to meander about the house. Many cats have come and gone through the years, but two particular cats will always have a special place reserved in my heart: Kit Kat, a Maine Coon, and Sammy, an American Shorthair. Though both domesticated house cats, each possessed its own personality and lifestyle.

We acquired Kit Kat through a local animal shelter, where they rescued her from an abandoned barn. Her appearance was a little rough around the edges, but I saw the potential for beauty that she possessed, with her long brown and black striped fur, with a tail reminiscent of a feather boa that stretched for miles. The markings around her vivid emerald eyes made it appear as though she was wearing Cleopatra-style eyeliner. Letting out a quiet meow as I approached her enclosure, she captured my heart, and I begged my parents for permission to take her home.

Although her mother had abandoned Kit Kat, it was apparent that she had handled her newfound independence with grace. The Maine Coon breed is renowned for possessing superior hunting skills, and she had obviously put those skills to use to sustain her while living in the vacant barn. Far from emaciated, it was difficult to believe that Kit Kat was a rescue animal. It took her a few days to cozy up to her new-fangled surroundings after bringing her home, but she and I formed an instant connection, and she slept in my bed that first night, never bothering to warm up to anyone else.

Once Kit Kat was acclimated to her new domicile, it became a struggle to keep her indoors. I am unsure if it was her Maine Coon instincts, or her familiarity with living outside that made her so fascinated with the outdoors, but it became very apparent that she was going to be an outdoor cat. Most evenings she would return home to snuggle with me in bed, but some nights she would remain outside all night, exploring the neighborhood. There were many mornings that she greeted us at the front door bearing the evidence of a scuffle, but it was always apparent that she had been the victorious party.

My mother tended a sizeable garden surrounding our residence, and Kit Kat treated it as her personal hunting grounds. She provided her pest control services frequently, and even killed a mole that had eluded my father’s rifle on many occasions. Bunnies, birds, and mice were regular victims during her reign as the domestic jungle queen, and no mole dared to invade our yard ever again. Regardless of the season, Kit Kat was constantly patrolling the yard, hunting for her next target.

Long after the era of Kit Kat, we acquired Sammy from a family whose cat had given birth to kittens unexpectedly. He was the most handsome cat of the litter, and even as a kitten, the markings of his fur were prevalent. The majority of his coat was short and grey, and his toes and a bib-like section that extended from his mouth to his chest were white, which gave him the appearance of having a little beard and mustache. His eyes were goldenrod yellow, and practically glowed in the dark.

Sammy initially warmed up to my mother first, and it was not uncommon to find him lying on her chest while she read a book. He was very affectionate and playful, and loved to display his athleticism by doing high jumps to attack toys. As he got older, his relationship with my mother faded, and he began to favor the company of my father’s lap. I am convinced that the nightly treats my father provided were a major factor in the transition of affection.

Like Kit Kat, Sammy also proved difficult to keep indoors, and we reluctantly allowed him outside. He never wandered much further than our backyard, and would only rarely venture beyond our property. He would be outside from sunrise to sunset in the warmer seasons, and even braved the snow for short periods in his younger years. As he aged, though, he favored experiencing the outdoors by sitting in the kitchen window and feeling the breeze through the screen. He preferred the companionship of a family member for his outdoor excursions, and occasionally kept my mother company as she worked in the garden. Sammy was never much of a hunter, and his only kill was an occasional moth.

Both cats were beautiful in their own way, and neither could combat the inclination to be outdoors. Most domesticated house cats are content with an indoor existence, but these two cats felt the need to explore life in a different way. Both felines were also affectionate, and formed a powerful connection with at least one member of my family. Although Kit Kat was a Maine Coon and Sammy was an America Shorthair, they both grew to be similar in size and weight, close to 20 pounds each. It was obvious though, that neither understood the reality of their own volume, when they attempted to snuggle with their favorite person. Kit Kat was so immense that she crowded my full-sized bed, and often tried to nestle beside my neck in a recess where only a kitten could fit. Sammy insisted on snuggling on my mother’s chest directly under her chin, and demanded every square inch of my father’s lap to sprawl his body. Both cats were wonderful pets and enriched my existence in many ways, and despite having genetic similarities, like humans, their personalities differed greatly.