Sally, my outdoor cat, brings me treasures. She lines up animal parts beside my car in the garage. I figure she eats almost everything she catches, which is everything she tries to catch. Her hunting skills are deadly. I have watched her sharpen her claws on our mountain ash tree, pulling the bark back as she gets ready for the hunt. From the number of her gifts to me, she is obviously a force to be reckoned with on our land. She lines up gopher tails and a small part of the gopher innards that I call a gizzard, (because that is what it looks like.) I am always surprised by her ability to catch gophers. And am equally surprised at what she won’t eat. I wonder if she knows something about innards that I’ve always suspected, they are not fit for consumption.

I have this barn cat named Sally. She is demanding, beautiful and unpredictable. She is exactly the type of cat my mother was talking about when mom once said, “You always love the difficult ones.” My problem with Sally is that she meows at me to pet her. So, I do. But when I stop, she swipes out at me. In essence, Sally tells me with her sharp claws that I do not have permission to stop. Her behavior is aggravating and painful. Truth be told, she infuriates me when she strikes out. The other day, my husband was petting her; she swiped and caught his hand as though she were catching a mouse. His puncture wounds were deep. My husband ended up slicing open the wounds and pouring hydrogen peroxide over them to prevent infection.

With this type of behavior, it’s a wonder that Sally gets any attention at all. But she rubs up against me making me feel as though she cares. Her meows tell me to stop ignoring her. (I have found that the more I ignore her, the more loving she becomes.) Then, just when I think there might be a breakthrough in her behavior, I reach down to pet her. Bang. She nails me again. So, I ask myself, how does Sally make me believe that her reaction to my petting will be different from the last time. I feel like such a sucker.

Interacting with Sally has taught me a lot about understanding people’s behavior. While we may be lured by affection to let down our guard, we shouldn’t expect behavior to change quickly, if at all. So I guess I have to thank Sally for being the ingrate that she it. Because, in truth, her behavior has probably saved me more than it has hurt me. Because of my relationship with this cat, I am always on the lookout for Sallys.