Meet Meow

When I was a little girl, I loved cats. I thought they were sweet and snuggly. I loved how they purred and I loved their soft fur. As a young adult, I developed a nasty allergy to cats, therefore causing my affection for cats to be tempered by itchy, watery eyes and wheezy coughs. So, when a cat appeared in my house a few weeks ago, I was skeptical.

Iam cognizant that Meow is around by the noise he makes. It is not a sweet purr, but his meow sounds more like someone is stepping on him. Mrroooowww . . . Or even just Rrrrroooooowwwww. . Meow even has short bursts of "Raow" as a response when asked a question.

Meow's presence reminds me about the reasons I don't particularly enjoy pets, however. Sometimes Meow is entwined in my legs, causing me to wobble around the house because I can't move my feet without his begging to be petted. Meow also rubs his head on my leg under the table while I am trying to eat dinner. To me, that is exasperating.

Sometimes Meow is endearing. When I hoist Meow to my chest, he nuzzles his cheek into my chin and makes a contented "meow." He gently paws at my hands to show his affection and appreciation for the attention I am bestowing on him.

Meow only comes around about half of the day. When we had company, Meow seemed to be present more, seeking the attention of our visitors. He even licked his ice cream out of a bowl at the table when Jeff and Emily were here.

Meow is not a conventional cat, as you may have guessed. I love him more than any sneeze-causing cat I have ever known. He is my youngest son, Evan.