I was on my way to work Tuesday morning, when I decided to change my earrings. So I grabbed my jewelry box and proceeded to look for a festive, colorful pair of earrings that reminded me of dangling confetti.
I had found one, but had trouble finding the other.
So I spent a few minutes that could have been used going to work, searching through my jewelry box and around my dresser for my lost earring.
When I was about to frustrate myself with my unsuccessful search, I came upon a little piece of string with tiny, colorful ornaments that favored -you've guessed it, confetti.
It was my earring, still in my jewelry box, but with the location of its remains unknown.
I knew what happened. I just didn't know how it happened. And I new who was the guilty party: My two young cats.
Those little heifers had gone through my jewelry box while I was out. But why? Where did they plan to go. A hot date? To meet that new cat down the street?
But deep down I should not have been shocked to see my destroyed jewelry. To be honest I've known that they fancied my jewelry, and actually laughed to myself when I saw the remains of my earring. I've caught them digging around in it before, and have shooed them off. I even found earrings, in their original state, under the bed or behind the dresser. I just never thought they would go so far as to actually tear an earring apart. (I also caught them doing other events, but I will spare them the embarrassment of sharing the details)
Oh, how did I even get myself in this situation. That is something I ask myself in situations like this.
See, I always thought of myself as a dog person. Rottweilers, poodles, Doberman Pinchers. These are the animals I spent my life around. Not European Short hairs, Russian Blues and other feline favorites.
People are surprised when I say I have cats.
I spoke with a friend from high school last month and she was surprised to learn that I had cats.
"I didn't figure you to be a cat person," she said to me, or something close to that.
My mom made a comment about not raising me around cats (although she loves my cat stories), and my sister ordered me to hide those little pesky felines when she came for a recent visit.
I don't smell like cat people. You know the ones that hardly ever change their cat's litter. I've had people say that to me. My house also doesn't smell like the cat's own it.
And to a certain extent, they are correct.
Growing up, I never thought I would own cats. Seriously. I was always afraid that they would still my life force by sucking the breath from my sleeping body. (Blame it on my love of horror movies when I was a younger') Therefore, I considered myself to strictly be a dog person.
Part of my acceptance of cats had to do with functionality.
I figure every animal serves a purpose.
Dogs keep bogeymen (and bogeywomen) away. Cats keeps rodents and other little undesirables away (this is being said if you live in a rural environment). You can ride horses if your car is on the fritz. Goats provide milk or are good companions if you just want to run around. Roosters wake you up in the morning. I think you get my point.
I also realized I had a weakness for things, especially when they are small. Puppies. Kittens. Colts. Fillies. Human babies.
Although they are destructive, my cats are adorable, even the one who doesn't like humans ... much.
They also are smart. They do come when I call them, or at least they acknowledge when I call them, whether or not they listen depends on their moods. They are, after all cats.
My love of animals didn't stop with cats.
I still love dogs, love horses, goats, etc.
To be honest, I don't think any really knows everything that they like or dislike.
Some things we may be sure about liking and disliking -hands down. But there are a few items that may slip through the cracks.
You know, those things that you thought you didn't like but hadn't really tried before.
For some it may be Indian food. For others it is shoes from Payless. For me, it was my cats.
Aisha I. Jefferson covers police and courts for the Daily Herald. She can be reached at (770) 957-9161 or via e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org .