By 'know', I mean taking the time to allow the cat to get to know you and let their guard down. Unlike dogs, cats are not eager to please and they approach the unfamiliar with caution. They don't befriend strangers immediately. Some people think that cats are standoffish as a result. I think that they're street smart. Think about it: you can let a cat outside and they're perfectly able to fend for themselves. Not so for a dog. This, in and of itself, is one of the reasons I like cats.  

Part of the reason many people don't take the time to know cats is because they had one bad experience with a particularly evil cat that has forever tarnished their view of cats. Strangely, those that are cat-averse tend to think that all cats are the same. That felines, unlike canines, don't have unique personalities. If one cat is evil, all cats are evil. Perhaps this generalization has to do with the lack of clearly recognizable cat breeds (besides a few exceptions, like siamese). If people have a bad experience with a german shepherd, for example, they might hold a grudge against german shepherds but still like other breeds of dogs. In contrast, if someone has a uncomfortable encounter with a generic house cat, all generic house cats are given a bad name.

The best example I have of cats having unique personalities and being able to be loving and affectionate companions is Barney. Barney died a few years ago, but he lived a long life. We adopted him because my parents wanted a cat to hunt the mice and other rodents that infested the barn. The idea was that he would live in the barn, which was an idea I wasn't fond of. I remember pleading "can't Barney come in the house?". The answer was no and I had to go to the barn to visit and cuddle with the cute marmalade kitten.

Eventually, Barney was allowed in the house but it wasn't the result of my whining. We discovered that Barney wasn't meant to be a barn cat. He was a social cat and was obviously unhappy being alone in the barn. He wanted to be with us, not with the barn animals. Wherever we were, Barney wasn't too far away. If we went on a walk in the woods, he'd follow. If you called his name, he'd come running. I fondly remember doing homework and looking up from my notes to my textbook to find Barney sitting on the page I was reading, staring at me and wanting attention. Barney wasn't the cat people typically think of when they think of cats.

Sure, he had his flaws. He had a weakness for butter and margarine and we would sometimes catch him licking the butter if it was left out on the counter (he would look rather guilty). He was a bit daft (he misjudged the height of the coffee table and often bumped his head hard on the underside when walking beneath it). He had a very scrawny tail and often got large abscesses that we had to treat by putting antibiotic cream on and trying to prevent him from licking it off, once with very hilarious results (imagine a piece of blue pantyhose being used as a cat leotard).

I can't have cats now. Partly due to the clause in our lease but mainly due to Kevin's allergies. I miss cats a lot and make a point of stopping to meet cats that I encounter when walking through the neighbourhood, but I miss Barney more. When I go home, I almost expect to see him since he was part of our family for so long.