“I’m not a cat person.”

That is what I said for 40 years and I meant it.

I don’t like to be around them. I don’t understand their purpose, they just stare eerily and rub against me. No, I don’t want to hear about your boring cat antics. Please don’t show me pictures. I’m beyond not interested.

When I was 13 I had such a severe allergic reaction to my friend’s cat, gasping for breath, that I was rushed to the hospital. I can still feel my dad’s hand on my knee during the drive to reassure me that I’d breathe easily again. I was certain I wouldn’t survive the ride to the hospital. Once I breathed freely again I was convinced that I do not like cats.

Fifteen years ago because of unfortunate circumstances a cat moved in with my family. I called my mom and sister complaining that my husband let this “creature” in our bed. It was awful.

Somehow I began to love this cat, “Mr. Bobo.”

I started to get jealous that Mr. Bobo would sleep on my husband, totally ignoring me. The first time I got sick since having him was the first time Mr. Bobo decided to lay in bed with me, on me, for a couple of days. Finally. He picked me.

I got to love his long meows, meaning he was hungry. Every time I cleaned the house he followed me and curled up in each room until I was done. I told my mom and sister how wonderful these creatures are. Soon they each got themselves a cat. We had been a strict anti-cat family. I thank Mr. Bobo for bringing joy to all of us.

Shortly after Mr. Bobo‘s arrival, I decided he needed a friend and went to the SPCA and got my little “Dash” who just turned 9. Dash is my “greeter,” he runs to the door to kindly welcome everyone, if he likes them that is. My favorite thing he does now is lay on my chest and gently touch my face with his paws. He’s a 13-pound gentle giant.

Sadly Mr. Bobo passed away about a year after getting Dash. After some time Dash needed a playmate. I was looking on my iPad at pictures of cats at the SPCA when Dash put his hand on one of them and was looking behind the iPad to see where she was. She became our Emi. She is an independent and loving little one who cleans her siblings’ heads. Emi is also “a treat hog,” staring at the top of the fridge, then jumping on the counter, patiently waiting for me to give her treats.

I was very happy with my two fur babies. A new love of all things cat followed. I started gathering cat pictures, statues, books, magnets and of course cat shirts.

A few years later I saw a Facebook post that someone had found a cat in the road during a thunderstorm. I responded that I would care for him until another home was found. Ha! Ha! No one was ever going to take my “Tink” away from me. This tiny “orange” cat really did smell when I first got him and I didn’t want to name him “stink” so “Tink” it was.

But there’s more. When I called someone to clean my chimney he knew I liked cats and said he had one out in his shed during a major snowstorm asking if I could care for her until a home is found. He said he would clean my chimney for free if I took her. I drove through the snow to find that poor little girl, sitting afraid and cold in the shed. Of course I took her home. It turned out my chimney didn’t even need to be cleaned. A great deal anyway.

My Maggie. This little girl was so skittish that she stayed in one room in one place, on one bed for a full year.

My poor Tink died at only 3 years old. The hardest thing I ever had to do was holding him as he was put to sleep. I’ll never know if I made the right decision although the vet said he wouldn’t make it through the night as he was suffering constant seizures. About a year later I did it again. I saw a friend had one kitty left from a litter. She became my “Lily.”

Now 5 months old, she is fascinated by water, like no cat should be. Instead of drinking from the water bowls she puts her paws in and splashes herself. She stays in the bathroom while I shower. First on the toilet seat, now on the ledge peeking her head around the curtain and most recently jumping in but not running away afterward, just putting her paws on the ledge of the tub and still looking in.

Four cats later I am proud to be a cat lady. I consider them among the best friends I’ve ever had. Of course 90% of my Facebook posts are pictures of them. I now believe everyone is interested and, if not, they should be.