In the 70’s, the marketing power of the Humane Society was in its’ infancy at best. Spaying or neutering ones’ cat was almost unheard of. We grew up at the end of a dirt road and our house was veiled in the forest that surrounded us. At various times in my childhood, unthinking pet owners dropped litters of kittens ‘at the end of that dirt road’, which coincidentally, was the start of my driveway. My parents dreaded it…I was in cat heaven! I was a shy child and the gentle mewing kittens spoke directly to my heart. Their indulgent napping and kneading and purring were only bested by their incessant demand for stroking, and I loved everything about them. I marveled at their calming energy and felt honored when they decided to curl up around me. I always had a couple of parent-sanctioned cats, but at times had up to 6 non-sanctioned boarders residing somewhere between our basement and the garage. Without formal discussion, I think my parents and I had arrived at a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy about the number of illegal aliens I harbored, and I secretly knew that I would eventually grow up to be the crazy cat lady.
