I’ve spent much time figuring out why I love Zip and why he seems to love me back.

We are not alike, and I’ve never been so close to a cat. That always seemed to be Maria’s thing, I stayed out of the way.

I even talked to my long-time shrink today about Zip. She has been treating me, on and off, for more than 20 years, and God help her; she knows me well. I believe her when she says I am a good person, entitled to be happy. She has also helped me to learn how to do it.

She says I am finally opening up to intimacy, a process begun by Maria, several dogs and donkeys, and my intense and continuing meditation and spiritual work. That’s the overview.

Zip is easy for me to love. He is what the cat people call a “real cat.” Like everything in America, dogs, cats, and animals are a source of relentless controversy, argument, and quite often (the animal rights movement, sadly) ignorance and cruelty fueled by extremist ideology. This has become an American disease.

Zip is not a pet. He is a barn cat who has the traits of some pets. He does not wish to come inside, and he is never going to come inside. He  is right where he belongs.

He is a serious cat. When he shows up to meet me, he expects me to be there. If I am not, he gets annoyed and flowers (above.) But after a few minutes he loves along.

The term “real cat” applies to Zip. Every day I get messages (Maria gets some from the people afraid to message me or who just like her more than me) about our cruelty in keeping Zip outside the house, day or night. I think the term applies to a cat like Zip. He is a wild creature in almost every way except his love for people and attention.

City people often tend to see all animals as furbabies and pets. I understand that, but barn cats are a different species. They are longer, hungry, and barn dwellers. They have no wish to live inside and would lose their identities if they got inside. Zip is a cat who loves to hunt and kill rats; he doesn’t want to sit on a living room couch by the fire. When It snows, he listens for the mice to move.

He is a heartless and relentless hunter. He would fall apart living in the house and drive us crazy. He is the ultimate free spirit. he comes and goes where and when he pleases. I admire that.

He loves living outside, romping,  unnerving the hens and Zinnia and Fate, and hunting in the cold and snow, which gets all kinds of mice, moles, and chipmunks moving around and looking for food. He sits on the back porch, listening carefully, then punches and hauls his ketch into the barn. We feed Zip twice daily, so I don’t know if he eats the things he kills.

I respect Zip. He doesn’t let anyone or any animal push him around. He loves to care for himself and seems to relish his freedom. Confining him to the house at night would destroy his identity and sense of being a “real cat.” To believe this, it helps to live with animals. I’ve yet to meet many animal rights people who have no respect for the lives of animals or the often strange people who love them. People like me.

One “animal rights” activist told me I didn’t deserve to have Zip because he is an outdoor cat who decides where and when to sleep.  She says I am too cruel to have a cat. I have nothing to say to her. Zip is the cat for me.

Zip is fearless, and I am in awe of the quick and authoritative way he intimidates the dogs and pushes them around. He fears loud noise from the road, which is a good thing. He pays no attention to the road and has never gone near it. Smart barn cats are like that; they know how to keep safe. He sees this as his farm; he has explored and conquered every part of it.

For all this, Zip is one of the most affectionate animals I’ve known. He reminds me of Simon, our late and beloved donkey, in that he can be rough with other animals but soft as a rose with people. He can read the moods of people, especially me.

Zip is this kind of “real” cat. He is free to roam and hunt and choose his sleeping place. I know he has cleverly learned to burrow in and around the haystack in the barn. It is hot and safe in those crevices. Hay gives off heat when stored inside.

I’m unsure whether Zip has changed me or I have changed enough to let myself love him and be loved. I suspect it is the latter; it began with Maria and moved through much of my life. I don’t see Zip as changing; he seems quite content with his identity.

I admire Zip. I admire his independence and free spirit. He doesn’t take orders from anybody, and I never give him advice or correct him. He sets his agenda and keeps to it. Somehow, and in some way, we are the same channel of life; we understand one another and love one another.

I also admire his ability to love to be with me but never in a cloying or unwanted way. Zip reads me almost as well as Maria. He knows my moods. When I am low, he comes and follows me around. When I am angry, he is nowhere to be found. When I need comfort, he is happy to curl up on my shoulder and purr in my ear. My therapist says this is a great thing; I am finally opening up to love and connection.

I was joking with her today. It took long enough, I said. She laughed.