I didn’t want to live with a cat. I certainly didn’t want to live with a cat in my house. I was certain that I didn’t like cats. I was wrong.
Years ago, my ex-wife wanted a cat. She had grown up with felines and had great memories of them. I had grown up with a father who would sooner spontaneously combust than have an animal inside his perfect house, so I knew very, very little of cats or dogs from experience. At best, I was indifferent. But Melissa wanted a cat, so I decided to find one for her.
It was my sister, Mary, who found a stray kitten in Mountain Brook, which is an upscale Birmingham suburb very close to the local zoo. I had mentioned to her that I was looking for a cat, so she called me to come take a look when Melissa wasn’t around — so it would be a surprise for her. I went to Mary’s apartment to see this tiny furball who seemed more like a starving street urchin than the healthy kittens I’d seen in cat food commercials.
I got got down on the floor with him. He came over to me and rubbed against my face — gingerly at first, but then with abandon. I smiled and suddenly felt warmer inside. I didn’t want a cat, but something inside me did. What was I getting into?

The more I see of death, the more determined I am to live life fully
Nature struggles to keep alive
There’s a lot to complain about, but miracle is so much goes right
Beauty and love are all around us if our eyes and hearts are open to them
Defense mechanism led me to repress unacceptable emotions
Head and heart don’t agree about love, including Valentine’s Day
As we encounter emotional truth, poisonous past can make us numb
Don’t complain about debt when you borrow $35,000 to study puppetry
Why can beauty hurt so much? Why do I see her face in the sky?