Meet the little cat that changed our lives
Pets can play an important role in the lives of older people
My Iowa Writers’ Collaborative colleague, founder, and the person who persuaded me to participate, Julie Gammack, has created a new periodic column for her cute, loveable puppy, J. Dudley Gilbert. It has inspired me to write – just this one time, I promise – about the loving, beautiful cat that came to live with us about 18 months ago.
Say hello to François. More about the name later. He changed our lives.
First, some history. My wife, Lynne, and I both grew up with dogs in our homes and when our children were young, we had both a dog and a cat.
The latter are worthy of comment.
Our four children, 10 years apart from youngest to oldest, will remember me saying when they were growing up and asking about pets: “We rear children, not animals in this house.”
And then came Gigi, the third child, first daughter. As she approached maybe her 11th birthday, she said to me something like this:
“I know how you feel about pets. And if you don’t want to get me a puppy for my birthday, I will understand. But then please don’t get me anything. The only thing I want is a puppy.”
Well, every parent in the world knows what happened after that.
I went to work, researching dogs that do not shed, which was a big issue for me. I discovered the Lhasa Apso, a cute, small, no-shed breed.
I also did not like the idea of having to potty train a puppy.
So I began watching the classified ads (they were a thing then) for a used Lhasa Apso. Before long, I found one. Six months old. House trained. I took Gigi with me to see it. The pup came home with us.
We soon discovered that the house-broken part of the sales pitch may have been exaggerated a bit. We got through it. I should say Lynne and the kids got through it; my participation was minimal due to my work schedule in the newsroom at The Des Moines Register.
We also gave the pup a new name: Greta. OK, our last name is Garson, so it seemed like a fun name for our female pup.
She lived with us through three different homes in three different cities.
But Gigi was not through. I was working late one evening and got a call from her at my office at The Register. “Daddy, I found a kitten on the way home after school today in the rain. It was in the bushes, shaking. I brought her home. Can we keep her? Please!”
Anyone reading this who thinks the answer might have been anything other than a reluctant, “I guess so,” is out of touch with the reality of rearing children.
So Pywacket quickly became a resident of our household. Pywacket? Well, Gigi’s given name is Gillian. Gillian was the name of the witch in the classic movie, Bell, Book and Candle (1958, Jimmy Stewart and Kim Novak), and Pywacket was her familiar. What else would our Gillian have named her cat?
In any case, we all got along well together – Lynne, me, our four kids, a dog, and a cat – until Greta and Pywacket came to the end of the road, as pets inevitably do. Very sad. No more to say about that.
Spin forward 25 years. Our kids are all grown with pets of their own. Lynne and I are aging, living in a city a few hundred miles away from our kids and grandkids, all of whom live in different states.
And one day, about 18 months ago, I realized that something was missing. Lynne and I are living alone in a big house. We are not able to see our kids and grandkids as often as we would like.
Maybe we needed a companion? A little, four-footed one we could care for and who might find ways to return our affection.
I still did not want to potty train, so I began researching cats, because they are born with a magic instinct for eliminating body waste neatly in an indoor litter box. They do not have to drag their human owners into the equation every time they feel an urge. I looked for a breed that was low-shed and loving. There were several contenders, but the Siamese seemed to rise to the top.
I went online and looked for Siamese cats near us. One hundred and seventy miles? And the cat had been placed once by the Siamese cattery where it was born – and then returned to the cattery nine months later by a family that decided it did not want him after all?
Sigh.
Well, OK. I would ask all the obvious questions and consider the situation carefully. But I was determined to make this (a cat) happen. The cat in question did have certain attributes that were attractive for our situation. It was male, neutered, and front declawed.
Then, one evening, a week or two before we were scheduled to pick him up, I was furiously purchasing cat supplies online and realized we did not have a name. I asked Lynne – who took seven years of French in high school and college and always looked for a way to use her second language – if she had an idea for a name.
The response was instant: “Yes. François.”
No further consideration was needed on that point.
He’s an interesting little guy. First, yes, he is little. Just 8 pounds, a fraction of what many adult cats weigh. Also, true to his breed, he likes to talk, constantly using his meows to add emphasis to one of his actions or wants.
And then, there was the mysterious history of his first placement. Valorie Craig, the cattery owner, told me that he had been one of the sweetest kittens she could remember, but when he came back, he would just sit in a corner and hiss. It took months of resocialization training to get him renormalized and ready for a new placement, she said.
It did not take him long to change our lives, literally. The first day we had him, I left the house to run some errands in the morning. He jumped up on my wife’s lap first thing that morning. He was still there in the same position when I returned home two hours later.
He sometimes goes his own way in our house (an indoor-only cat), but most of the time snuggles near or around us.
Occasionally, he has sneaked out the main door of the house when I’ve opened it briefly for a delivery person or a plumber or whatever. Like most cats, he can be very quick and silent when he moves. I’ve had to chase him through the yard and have come close to not being able to catch him before he was in the street. I decided to have the existing partial fence around the patio leading to our main entrance door sealed off with new gates.
So, François has become an inseparable part of our lives. When we are at Okoboji in the summer, he goes with us. When we travel elsewhere, we hire someone who loves cats to come in for an hour each day to check on him and play with him.
He follows us around and has found impressive ways to communicate what he wants – almost always, attention. Like, when he runs in front of me, drops down on his side suddenly, and looks back over his shoulder at me, knowing that I will immediately kneel and pat him. Or, when he jumps up into my wife’s lap to snuggle with her in the middle of the afternoon.
If you’re reading between the lines, you may be able to tell that this has not been an inexpensive venture – not even if I don’t count the speeding ticket I got bringing him home. He does like his automated litter box; so do I.
François – by the way, that’s a cute name, don’t you think? – you are worth it, many times over.
All of which is to say that older people who live by themselves might do well to think about acquiring a pet.
Research has shown that pets can play a special role in the lives of older people. Older adults who have pets are less likely to experience loneliness. Almost nine out of 10 pet owners say they feel more relaxed after spending time with their pets. Pets also have been shown to help older people cope with emotional stress or physical pain. Here’s the link for a report documenting all of this and more: https://newsroom.cigna.com/unexpected-health-benefits-of-pets-for-older-americans
Once you decide to get a pet, you still have a very basic choice to make: Dog or cat? I suppose a dog would be OK. But you really might want to consider a cat.
Maybe a blue point Siamese. The cattery is Dunroven Farms in Newell, Iowa.
Handsome cat and relatable column. Our rescue Russian Blue cat, Arlo, was always friendly but never a lap cat. When my husband was diagnosed with cancer, however, that instantly changed. She became attached to his side, whether sitting or sleeping. She’s a true blue friend who continues to light up my life.
J. Dudley Gilbert loved this piece about Francois. He wants to meet him. The first cat he met just looked at him, batted him with his paw, and walked away. Dudley’s feelings were hurt. Francois sounds like he might like to play.