When Monty and I got back from our honeymoon twenty-one years ago, we adopted a little orange and white kitten that we named Ricky, after Ricky Ricardo from “I Love Lucy.” We had no idea then that we’d have Ricky for nearly eighteen joy-filled years. He entertained us endlessly, was my shadow during the day when Monty was at work, and my constant companion and comfort when the nights were the darkest and the days were the longest. Ricky was our boy—and when he died, one wintry afternoon, our hearts were broken. Our house seemed preternaturally silent, and I felt unmoored without my Ricky. Two weeks after Ricky died, I turned to Monty and said, “Do you think we should get another one?” He immediately knew what I was talking about and said he thought we should look. I knew we could never replace Ricky, but he had taught us so much about love and how much a pet can give—both Monty and I wanted that back in our lives.
We heard about a lady nearby who had some barn kittens that she needed homes for, and we drove out to her place in the country on a very cold December night. We walked into her kitchen, and I saw a tiny gray tabby cat under her table. We brought him home with us that night and named him Mackin. He brought a measure of joy and laughter back into our lives, but he also seemed to have decided that Monty was his one and only love. He wouldn’t sit with me, only with Monty. Each time he rejected me, I missed Ricky more.
Enter Seamus—I had started looking at the websites of all the humane societies within driving distance, constantly checking the kittens that were available for adoption. Two months after we adopted Mackin, we brought home Seamus, a skinny, gangly orange and white kitten. He had health issues, and he and I were often sick together, which bonded us. Seamus seemed to know from the moment we met that I was his mommy, and he began to fill up the holes in my heart left by Ricky. He lays in my lap for hours when I write, and he follows me around the house, always hoping for treats. He’s no longer skinny—my Seamus is now nearly twenty pounds.
And then there were three—in the summer of that year, Monty and I went to an animal shelter and saw a five-month-old kitten who was a peculiar shade of tan and had unusual markings on his coat that looked almost like crop circles. When we asked to hold him, the lady at the shelter snatched him out of his cage and roughly dangled him by the scruff of his neck in front of us. He cried out, and his eyes seemed to be pleading with us to rescue him. So we did. We brought home little Carrick. Mackin was afraid of him at first, but within days, he and Carrick became the best of friends. They sleep in the same bed, chase each other around the house, and look for each other, making little chirping noises. Seamus, on the other hand, hated Carrick from the moment he set eyes on him—he’s very territorial about me and didn’t at all like this new interloper. They coexist, but Seamus has almost no tolerance for the little brother who follows him around, chases him, and forgets that he’s not even half Seamus’s size.
So these are our boys. Dr. Phil says that everyone has a life strategy or set of life rules that govern their behavior. I’ve found this to be true about my boys—each has a set of life rules.
Mackin’s rules for living:
- Life is terrifying. Approach everyone and everything—a stray sock, a remote control, your brother—with extreme caution.
- When life gets too scary, shut your eyes, hunker down, and freeze. Back out of the room if necessary, and pray you go unnoticed.
- If at all possible, construct a fort out of whatever materials are at hand. Hide in it.
- It’s more important to be pretty than smart.
- Choose one person to love, and devote yourself completely to that person. Ignore all others, as they could potentially bring you harm.
Seamus’s rules for living:
- Treat the world as your kingdom and yourself as the king.
- Never tolerate a baby brother who thinks he can outsmart, outrun, or out-eat you. If he annoys you, immediately let him know by chasing him. Show no mercy.
- Love your Mom because she supplies treats, has a soft, roomy lap, and tells you how beautiful you are. Everyone else in your kindgom—person or cat—is a mere peasant and should be treated as such.
- Lie on your back and stare at the ceiling. Pretend to see things others can’t; it annoys them.
- Never turn down a treat or a nap.
- If you’re beautiful, own it. Strut into the room, stop for a moment, and let people appreciate the view.
Carrick’s rules for living:
- Size doesn’t matter. If you’re small, act like you’re as big as everyone else in the room.
- If you see something shiny, steal it.
- If you’re the baby of the family, you’re entitled to everything you could possibly want.
- Being adorable covers a multitude of sins. Rub against ankles, make sweet little chirping noises, let people pet your fuzzy belly, and your naughty behavior will be instantly forgotten.
- Love everyone, equally, even the brother who very clearly cannot tolerate you.
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“The beautiful is always bizarre.”Charles Baudelaire
“Beauty is the shadow of God on the universe.”Gabriela Mistral
“I love cats because I love my home and after a while they become its visible soul.”
Jean Cocteau
Project Mackin
I’m embarking on a project with our cat Mackin. First, some background information: from the minute we brought Mackin home, he was head over heels in love with his daddy. Mackin is so devoted to his dad that when Monty leaves, Mackin sits by the window and waits for him, for hours. He doesn’t sleep or relax; he just watches for Monty. And when he hears Monty’s car, he runs to the front door. He sits with Monty every time Monty sits down. He follows Monty and just stares at him with complete devotion.
Mackin is terrified of everyone else—well, life in general scares Mackin—but people, especially. And I have no idea why, but I’m one of those people. Mackin is scared of me. If I pick him up, he scratches at me and jumps out of my arms. If I approach him slowly, he shuts his eyes, freezes, and waits until I go away. He has started taking treats from me, after four years of him watching his brothers get treats.
Having Mackin be so devoted to him is wonderful for Monty, but every day, Mackin’s rejection breaks my heart a little. I have so much love to give him—and he doesn’t want it. So I have decided to make a project out of Mackin: I’m going to make this cat love me. I don’t know how, but I will—at the very least, I’d like him to not be afraid of me. So I’m going to keep a diary here of my efforts. And if you have any advice, I’ll take it.
Day One: I gave Mackin the newspaper and let him shred it into a huge pile. He slept on it all afternoon. While he was sleeping on it, I approached him very slowly, talked to him, and petted him. And he purred! I made the mistake of picking him up, and I now have new scratches on my arms. This is going to be a very slow journey. But today—Mackin purred for me.
Day Two: Mackin was sleeping in his bed, so I gently laid my hand on him and started petting him. He completely froze. Monty reached
over and did the same thing, and Mackin started purring. Then he got up, found a pile of Monty’s clothes, and made a nest to sleep in. So no progress today. It’s only day two. But still. . .
Day Three: Mackin sat on my lap today! Unfortunately, there was an extenuating circumstance. Mackin adores paper of all kind, especially shipping envelopes. So I had what I thought was a brilliant plan–put an envelope in my lap! And it worked, at first. Mackin very slowly crept up to it and sat on it–in my lap! I told him what a good boy he was, and he whipped his head around to look at me, like, “Wait. I’m sitting with YOU?” And the moment was over. He fled.
Day Four: I walked into the bathroom and saw Mackin sleeping in the sink. Yes, in the sink. I talked to him and put my hand on his back, and he started to purr! Then an errant water drop leaked from the sink faucet and landed right between Mackin’s eyes. He jumped down and stared up at me, betrayal written all over his little face. I tried to tell him it was the faucet, not me, but he started scrubbing at the little wet spot on his face, then left. I still consider this a victory–he purred.
Day Five: Monty was gone most of the day today, so I think Mackin was desperate for attention. He actually came up to me and nuzzled my arm. I petted him, and he started purring–then he settled into his bed next to me, still purring and kneading his paws in contentment. I know he was missing Monty, but still. . . definite progress today!
Day Six: Our best day so far! Monty was gone again this afternoon, so Mackin was once again desperate. I was eating cereal and noticed him watching me, so I offered him the tiniest bit of milk. He tiptoed VERY slowly into my lap, drank the milk, then stayed! He didn’t settle; he didn’t relax, but he stayed and listened to me talk to him. He even did the slow blinks that I once heard were a cat’s version of kisses. Then the spoon in my cereal bowl clanged against the side of the bowl, and he took off. I have huge scratches on my legs–scratches that I value. I’m starting to understand Mackin more. And realizing that the whole problem, really, is Monty’s fault.
Day Seven: Hello to everybody out there! You are all my friends and if you came to see us we would have an Irish party. I am Carrick, and I am writing this for Mackin because he can’t do it himself. Mommy says I’m Mackin’s service cat because I have to help him a lot and calm him down. I told him about Project Mackin and he wants to say this: I have just found out the most horrifying thing. The lady who lives with my daddy is trying to make me love her. She has been um…well… (this is Carrick here to help again. I think Mackin is trying to say “merciless”). Yes, what Carrick said. There is only one thing in this whole wide world that I love almost as much as my daddy. And Carrick. It’s my special toy, the only one I ever play with. It is a green and white toy that ratttles and I love it so much and I carry it around all the time and no one plays with it except me. Last night, that lady who lives with my daddy took it away from me and threw it. She said go get it, Mackin, this will be fun. I don’t know why she stole it but it was not fun. I’m scared just thinking about it. What if she does it again? Carrick! Help! (this is Carrick again. Mackin is fine; he always sounds like he’s panicking. I will calm him down and sit in his bed with him. Good night. I have to go before Seamus sees me at Mommy’s computer. He looks at me like I would be a tasty snack.)
Day Eight: I decided to simply observe Mackin today–to see if I could figure out what’s going on in his pretty little head. And I discovered something very interesting. Mackin and I are very much alike. We both love Monty. Mackin waits by the door for Monty to come home–I probably would, too, if I didn’t have other things to do. Mackin is very slow to trust. He’s anxious and needs reassurance from Monty that the sky isn’t falling. Me, too. The world is scary to Mackin–the snap, crackle, and pop of Rice Krispies terrifies him. The sound of marshmallows melting in a mug of hot chocolate sends him looking for either Monty or a fort to hide in. I, too, get easily frightened and would love to hide in a fort–but Monty reassures me, just as he does Mackin. Maybe the key to making Mackin love me is to understand him. I’m beginning to–and I love him all the more for the weirdly special things about him.
Day Nine: Mackin loves his daddy, Carrick, his special toy, and butter. He’s obsessed with butter. It’s a bit disconcerting when you’re eating a piece of toast and feel yourself being stared at. I shamelessly lured Mackin to me today, using butter. I smeared a little bit on a plate and held it out to him. Usually, the only thing Mackin will take from me is a treat, but he licked that butter off very quickly. He even licked my finger. Then he sat and stared at me over my computer screen–which was adorable if not a bit unsettling. And he stayed–for several minutes. So, my lesson for today? Bribes work.
Day Ten: Ten days of studying this little gray cat of ours. Am I closer to understanding him? I think so. I need him to understand me a bit so he can trust my motives and not have to be afraid of me. So many things scare our Mackin; I want very badly to NOT add to his fears. Today, I simply petted him only when he was sitting with Monty, and I’m convinced that one of the times I did it, he was smiling. And his purr sounded like music. For today, that makes me happy. And for today, that’s enough.
Day Twelve: I don’t know why, but Mackin has always liked to watch me brush my hair. I let him sniff my hairbrush, then he hops up onto the counter and watches while I brush my hair. I talk to him, matching my voice to the motion of the brush, and he always starts to fall asleep while I talk. When I’m done, he runs off to find Monty. This morning, I wondered if Mackin might tolerate it if I brushed him. So I brushed my hair and talked to him as usual, then very slowly started brushing him. At first, he made himself into a nearly flat surface. But then he started to rise, and I heard it–the faintest of purrs. I brushed him, and he purred more and more loudly. If I stopped brushing him, he would bump his head into the hairbrush until I started again. Then he looked up at me with his sweet little face, twittered, and jumped down off the counter. He was done. But I’m not. . . tonight I’m feeling the thrill of victory. And I can’t wait to try it again.
Conclusion: Project Mackin has been a far more enlightening experience than I thought it would be when I began it. I believed when I started this that Mackin was the difficult one. What I discovered is that I am more afraid of Mackin than he is of me. At the risk of sounding completely ridiculous, I have to admit this–I’ve been afraid that any effort I made with Mackin would be rejected. But through these weeks of observing him, I’ve begun to understand him. And yes, our sweet Mackin is different. He’s scared and cautious. He’s always unsure. Sounds a lot like me! So I’ve begun to see Mackin with much more compassion–no animal should have to be so afraid all the time. As I’ve begun to approach him very gently, he’s responded. Bit by bit, he’s learning to trust me. And I’m learning to love him just the way he is. He won’t ever completely return that love, but he’s not afraid of me anymore. And I count that a victory.
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Comments 32
When my son’s moved in three years ago they came with three cats. Two indoor and one outdoor. The indoor were a female gray tabby and a large male Bengal. The gray tabby , Mir, wouldn’t have anything to do with me. Mir had never been “fixed”. When she went into “heat” she would come to anyone. She even came to me for attention and I let her on my lap. That forever broke the ice between us. Mir goes around to all of us seeking attention day & night.
Day nine, Mackin is a “very shrewd cat”.Renee, please don’t run out of the Butter. Love$ Day nine.❤️
You know, Hal? I think Mackin might be a lot more shrewd than I give him credit for. I will always, always have a big stock of butter!
Wonderful. Can’t wait for day nine. Mackin i# Happy today. Angel, your words jus5 flow so beautifully, 2ith a “p8nch, or. More, o& Humor. Keep on writing.❤️
Thanks for your kind words, Hal.
Renee, Mackin reminds me of one of my granddaughters whom I call my angel. When she comes I do not run to greet her, I do not kiss or hug her, she is very much in need of her own space. Very occasional she will come a bit closer, but a hug or a kiss is a most seldom occasion. She is very different, very difficult to read and you can almost hear her thinking before she speaks. She does not appreciate being touched. From very early on I have learned to interact with her in more unusual ways, allowing much room and space, yet always accepting her decisions to be who she needs to be for herself. She is a most precious child and for the first time this August she agreed to come for 3 days on her own and I had little Thea join us which she loved, together it was awesome as I left them to be creative together. She also reminds me of myself when I was small and there were so many customs I did not like such having to shake a hand or give a kiss to a relative which I found disturbing and flat our refused to do, which irritated my mother endlessly. I would stand with my hands behind my back, look away and shake my head as in ‘NO’. Most believed I was a wilful and stubborn child which I wasn’t, just sensitive to whom I felt safe with. I have also had friends who’s cats would come to me to rub against me but that I could not touch or they would scratch even as I knew them both for over 10 years. I just accepted them as such and loved them anyway. Perhaps Mackin is such a cat and he has found his soulmate in Monty!
Klara, I like how you have taken the time to understand your granddaughter and have paid attention to what her boundaries are. I’m sure that means a great deal to her. It probably won’t surprise you to know that I was the same kind of child as you were. Yes, Mackin has found his soulmate in Monty–that’s a great way to put it. I just don’t want him to be afraid of me–he’s afraid of so many things. I want Mackin’s life to be less fear-based. That’s my hope.
Of course that is is your hope, fear is such an uncomfortable place to be in. But fear is also very real and triggers so much.
I hope one day to be able to just lock that wee girl in my arms and have an endless cuddle. She is not afraid of me but so very reserved and I feel it had to do with her traumatic birth. That said, I will respect her very strong boundaries with not only me but with men or anything or anyone.
Even as she goes to school, they have to extra early as she has issues with coming when a lot of children are already there–funny I had the same but my mom was not understanding with all of that–I was supposed to live in the real word and better smarten up???
Anyway I survived to some degree but will forever be sensitive when people are in my face or pushy even as I stand up strongly these days.
Good thing I can close the door when I get home and have my very own wee sanctuary when I do! Love you too!
She sounds like such a precious girl–how wonderful to have people in her life who understand that and are willing to work with her. I, too, am sensitive to people who get in my space, but I’ve never had the courage to set boundaries as you have. I couldn’t agree with your statement more–coming home to my sanctuary with the boys mends a thousand wounds!
Absolutely, just close that door, do whatever makes you happy and just be you. Thank Heaven for a home and a sanctuary where we can just be who we are.Bless you Renee!
Good luck Renee on project Mackin. I am a Dog Lover. However through my journey in life, we have had several cats. Cats are pretty, nice tomlook at. I have mastered the art of cat ownership, by learning, Let the Cat come to you. I try to appear as “aloof”/as the Cat, next thing I know, they are rubbing * On my lower leg area, anD purring. Wait a minute, maybe I am a Cat Lover also. My kidslove Cats. P.s. Cats really Love you, when you bring them their food dish. Good luck. ?
Thanks, Hal. Yes–the secret to cat ownership is that there is no such thing. Cats are masters at being aloof! I detect a cat lover as I read your comment, by the way. I’ve tried treats with Mackin but not the food dish. Thanks for the advice.
Thanks Rennee! I love your thoughts and how you pen them. I think you’re better than you think!! Just try expanding a bit. Steven King wrote short stories! I just bought Gwendolyns button box. It’s short.
Why can’t I edit????
Joan’s little dog wants to befriend me but shevprotects Joan fiercely. It can be embarasing on walks. She’s a rescue so no telling what she came from. They are all what God and the world made them. Worth our love and compassion. And a little play time. Cats …. Well they have no rules ??
Steve, you just made me laugh. “Why can’t I edit?” Isn’t that annoying? I hate it, too. And I like picturing you and Joan on walks with Joan’s protector. You’re right about rescue animals–and I love that about them. We’ve always had rescues, and when you bring them home, you have no idea what kind of animal you really have. Each day, at the beginning, is sort of like unwrapping a present and finding out who they are. (By the way, our cats DO have rules. They ignore them.) Thank you so much for your encouragement about my writing–and you’re right, Stephen King started out small. Then again–he’s Stephen King! Oh, and I’m interested to hear what you think of “Gwendolyn’s Button Box.” I won’t say anything about it until you do. . .
There is an alpha for every animal in a pack (household). Most animals have a need to please that alpha and they love that alpha with all their heart.
We see it in ours. It really is a beautiful thing. Funny thing. I’ve been having sciatica issues of late and my knee in that leg fired up like a hot poker in that knee tonight. Once I got under control my baby 90 pound lab boy was obviously stressed more than me. My wife has a little dachshund beagle mix. That dog loves her like Joan is her God. She was on the outskirts ready to protect me. Point is. In an animal human family there are loyalties beyond our comprehension but we still should reach out and be kind to the animal that loves the other human. They know a limited level of devotion but that devotion is deeper than we can comprehend.
You’re right about animals in a family. Seamus is a Mama’s boy. Carrick loves everybody. And Mackin loves his daddy. The weird thing is how much Mackin fears me, and it makes me sad. Your animal family sounds so sweet. Isn’t it amazing how animals can tell when you’re in pain? Our sweet cat Ricky, who’s gone now, knew almost before I did when a migraine was coming, and he wouldn’t leave me until the pain did. I do hope you’re feeling better tonight, Steve. Thanks for reading and commenting.
Cute post! I really liked each cat’s “rules for living” and the pictures…
Thank you so much, Kristie! I had fun writing it. And taking the pictures! Thanks for taking the time to read this and comment.
I just love this post!!! It is so entertaining and I get a great picture of each of these cats that I’ve only met for about 15 minutes. Your writing blesses me so much!!
Thank you, Lisa! You need to come and spend lots and lots of time with my boys! And me. Thank you for your encouragement, as always.
Makes me laugh every time I read this because it is so true and spot on!
You would know better than anyone!
There is a huge difference between a loved spouse and animals. A loved spouse can always turn but a well loved animal will never. This is not to say we don’t get a forever spouse and the human love of our life. If you are blessed like me in the autumn of life you’re extremely blessed. Animals posses a love we can only hope to experience. Love them while they’re alive. You’ll miss them when they’re gone. My heaven will have all the animals we have ever loved. Maybe everyone elses. Except snakes and alligators. Only God can love them!!
I agree–there is a pureness to the love of an animal that doesn’t exist anywhere else. And I’m certain that, like you said, heaven will be full of the pets we’ve loved. They’re probably having a party right now! (minus the snakes and alligators. . . )
Well this is my favorite……until I read another!!!
Thank you so much, Danine!
I love it!
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I’m so glad! Thank you.
This blog is just delightful! Cats, books, poetry, beauty — what more could you want! Thanks Renee!
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Thank you! My prayer is that these things I love will bless others.