From time to time, I receive emails from visitors to this cats blog, but this most recent email caught my attention. The writer introduced himself as Gary Shiebler, who turns out to be a former humane educator at the Helen Woodward Animal Center in southern California. He complimented me on this blog and how much he enjoyed visiting it, but most of all, how much he appreciated my devotion to cats. He introduced me to a book that he had written, called “The Power of Purrs”, and much to my surprise and delight, he sent me a complimentary copy of this book.
I will tell you right now that this is one of the most delightful books about cats that I have read! I’ve been involved as a volunteer cat foster home for four years now, and I cannot imagine my life without cats. With “The Power of Purrs”, Mr. Shiebler masterfully shares stories and treasured memories of the cats that have come into his life and left their precious pawprints in his heart. He truly captures the essence of why cats are just as beloved to their human companions, and why so many of us love cats the way we do. The same passion and devotion to cats is very very evident in his book. Here is an excerpt from his book:
“It’s five o’clock in the morning, and I’m in that comfortable in-between place, not quite asleep or awake, that magical drifting and floating place you wish could last forever and where real time passes all too quickly. Soon, the first hints of a new day will begin filtering through the silvery mist in tones of abalone and gold and the walls of our bedroom will slowly reveal themselves in a tender wash of light.
The soothing hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen drifts lazily down the hall in the sweet, fading darkness—its efficient motor firmly cooling the half gallon of milk that I’ll splash in my strong cup of coffee in a couple of hours.
The cheap, digital clock that sits on top of my dresser is a glowing confirmation that I still have a little time to luxuriate in the final strands of a good night’s sleep.
Suddenly, the spell is broken. Not by a blaring car horn or a rattling garbage truck hoisting barrels over whining belts and chugging cylinders, but by a surging collage of thumps and gallops growing from the back of the house. I always try to ignore it, but there’s no defense against these mischievous stirrings, no covers thick enough to hide under, no bedroom door solid enough to stem this restless, impatient tide. Soon, these furry conquistadors will spill into the hallway, ricochet off the walls, and lay siege to our bedroom. We try our best to turn them away, but there’s just no stopping cats that want breakfast.
Through sleepy grunts and sluggish groans, my wife and I reach for anything within an arm’s length of our nightstands. In just a few moments, the air in our once-tranquil bedroom will be filled with slippers, socks, pillows, Kleenex boxes, and small inspirational books. It’s a noble display, but the cats know that it’s just a matter of time before our paltry cache runs dry. They deftly sidestep our halfhearted barrage and dutifully press onward. Soon they’ll be on the bed, marching up the entire length of our pajama-covered bodies.
Twitchy tails will swish beneath noses, whiskers will tickle cheeks, and fuzzy heads will poke and prod our chins. If we refuse to surrender, the troops will split up, and valuable glass items and collectables will be pushed off the edges of dresser tops, phones will be pulled off hooks, and miniblinds will be systematically dismantled. If those tactics fail to swing our feet to the floor, they can always “accidentally” brush up against Cielo, our cat-despising fox terrier. There’s no better way to propel us toward the kitchen than with a spinning, snarling, predawn brawl at the end of the bed.
Once I’m up, the offensive is immediately called off. The battle has been won, this particular morning’s war is over, and I, the defeated mother ship, am carefully escorted to the kitchen by a now-gracious flotilla of whiskered tugboats. When I’m safely in port, the cats strategically reposition themselves on counters and breakfast bars and quietly wait for the familiar sound of cabinet doors opening and silverware drawers sliding out. The recognizable metallic puff of the can opener and my slow, wristy grind around a fresh serving of ocean whitefish signal the end of another successful ground campaign.
I’ve often wondered why I’m so tolerant of these early-morning blitzkriegs. Perhaps it’s because I’d rather be awakened by a sea of cat paws and a chorus of meows than by the jarring pulses of a plastic digital alarm clock. What’s more, my day begins with an act of giving, which is always a good way to start a day.
The following stories are but a slender testimony to these remarkable and often misunderstood feline companions. And when I think of the array of richness, vitality, comfort, and color they’ve brought to my life, I have to go way back to the beginning. To a cat named Sweet Kitty.”
- Gary Shiebler -
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If you’re looking for an unique, special gift for the cat lover in your life this holiday season (or any other gift giving occasion!) I highly recommend this book! It is available at Amazon.com, and you can use this convienint link to purchase and shipt it!
