Erin Foster, Lyle & Bruce
Left to right: Bruce, Lyle, and Erin
It’s easy to look at us now—two dashing felines and a giddy cat mom—and think things have always been carefree and wonderful. Smooth sailing on the ol’ SS Catnip. But the fact is, years spent navigating health and behavior issues with these two has made for quite the bumpy ride. When I first adopted Lyle 11 years ago, I couldn’t have imagined this disgruntled young cat prone to bursts of rage would become the loving gentleman he is today. As for Bruce, despite enduring years of health challenges and arduous vet visits, his spirits remain as high as his meow is loud (it’s loud). The inherent rollercoaster of pet parenting seems obvious to me now, but there was a time when I thought having a cat companion would be a lot like those old-school inspirational posters with kittens gently tumbling out of baskets in a spring meadow.
Let’s just say Lyle popped that romanticized bubble with a razor-sharp claw. It was 2010 and my first time adopting a cat on my own. When I saw his photo online, I melted—here was this big-eyed, blue-gray kitten with a tiny body and huge ears (pretty sure Baby Yoda stole his look). Things between us were great for a while. But several months in, after he’d grown a bit, the attacking began. I couldn’t walk from one room to the next without him latching on to my ankles like a bloodthirsty crocodile. Needless to say, this was a painful part of our relationship in more ways than one. I tried dozens of solutions and went through as many boxes of Band-Aids; ultimately, I just ended up feeling frustrated and heartbroken. Nothing changed until I moved in with my future partner, Ian. The dynamic with Lyle shifted almost instantly, and it soon became clear why. Lyle behaved much better in the presence of someone who didn’t spoil and fear him like I did. I learned a lot from observing their interactions. Additionally, when we moved out of our small Brooklyn apartment and into a house, Lyle’s behavior took a dramatic turn for the better. He suddenly had more room to run around and expend his pent-up energy. Turns out, Lyle was never a bad guy; he simply required certain factors in order to be his happiest self.
Erin and Lyle
“Over the years, he’s become a good boy who enjoys chin scratches and being pet for exactly 23.7 seconds.”
One of the big takeaways from the experience with Lyle was that I would not adopt a kitten in the future; I would adopt a cat. I figured it would be easier to decipher a cat’s true personality once they were well into adulthood—thus, I could better predict whether or not they’d be a good fit. Of course, this logic only goes so far in letting you know what you’re signing up for. Case in point: I adopted Bruce in 2018 when he was six years old, and his personality turned out to be a match made in heaven: an instant lap cat and cuddle monkey. However, I soon realized he had some serious undiagnosed health conditions that resulted in daily vomiting and diarrhea. He came from a caring yet underfunded shelter where they weren’t able to monitor his health in much detail, so I was on my own in terms of figuring out his issues. It took a year and a half of countless vet visits, medicines, diet changes, litter changes, etc.—until finally, I took him in to have an endoscopy procedure. It was then revealed that he had small cell lymphoma in his GI tract. This news was devastating, since chemo was the only possible treatment, and we did not want to put him through that. But there was a sense of relief in identifying the problem at last. We now have him on prescription food and a daily steroid that keep his symptoms mostly in check, and he is able to live a full, happy life, which is all any pet parent can hope for.
“Bruce is the sweetest creature I’ve ever known. He is a professional biscuit-maker who lives for laps and tummy rubs.”
Erin and Bruce
Lyle is very intelligent and appears to always be thinking. Over the years, he’s become a good boy who enjoys chin scratches and being pet for exactly 23.7 seconds. He also has a sixth sense for when anyone in the house is upset; he’s the first one on the scene. I have a feeling he’d be one of those pets that could dial 911 if necessary. The funniest thing about him is that he has a tiny stuffed toy we call Brown Mouse who he carries around, bathes, speaks to in a unique meow-voice, and essentially treats as his closest companion and confidant in the world.
Being professionally photographed is nothing new to Lyle; when I worked at Redbook magazine several years ago, he was an on-set model for an article about throw pillows. (His contract stipulated Town Car transport and Temptations treats; both were provided). He also enjoyed the star treatment when I commissioned an ice sculpture luge to be created in his likeness for my 30th birthday party.
Bruce is the sweetest creature I’ve ever known. He is a professional biscuit-maker who lives for laps and tummy rubs. The volume and frequency of his meows know no bounds, and he emits a melodious little chirrup every time he jumps up on something. He is also, and I say this lovingly, a bit dim upstairs. His lack of awareness of pretty obvious things makes us laugh multiple times a day. I suppose when your being is comprised of pure light and innocence there is little room left for dazzling smarts. With that said, he’s not a dunce; after observing how often Lyle gets our attention with various Brown Mouse antics, Bruce started carrying around a similar mouse toy, which he now employs as a means of requesting said attention.
Left to right: Lyle, Erin, and Bruce
As it turns out, cat parenting has plenty of sunlit-kittens-in-baskets moments. But remember those “Hang in There” posters with the cat dangling precariously from a tree branch? There are those moments too. Fortunately, cats have a knack for landing on their feet, and I’ve learned it’s usually wise to follow their lead.
Erin Foster is a graphic designer with a compulsion for pickle brine, 80’s synth-pop, and Thomas Hardy novels. Though now happy to call Portland home, her 9-year stint as a Brooklynite means she occasionally craves the adrenaline rush of sprinting for the closing door of a G train.