cats come to me

Why is it cats come to you sometimes? Today, when I dropped my son off at school, the rough coated grey and white one who lives somewhere near the school gate came up and seemed happy to be stroked for as long as I wanted. When it is raining, his fur is thick as a doormat, but today in the wind and sunshine, it was softer. Not soft as our tom cat, who is like icing sugar (though not sweet at all). I'm not a cat person. I'm a dog person. I don't like cats, they don't pretend as well as dogs that all they're interested in is food. Or maybe it's just that dogs really do like walks, and cats can't be bothered. And they do give you the impression you are very thick. But then, when you feel very thick anyway, they are so comforting. Like the school one, this morning, and our little tabby now, curled up on the kitchen chair beside me.
I like how telepathic dogs are, though collies freak me out a bit - you can feel their thoughts battering on your mind like the incomprehensible vibrations of someone shouting through thick glass, but though it is frustrating, it's kind of a relief too. I think that's why they are our best friend, because we understand enough, but not everything about them.
Apparently, this grey cat belongs to every family on the road beside the school, and has many names. He is not fat though. I was grateful he bestowed his green eyes and firm back on my path, then, that he let me rouse him to a pur as the last parents walk past down the hill round us.
I wondered what they have decided about our son being taken away?
I wondered what they would think about why it happened, if they would blame me?
I wonder what they would do if their partner had has been gambling again telling them not to worry, there was a problem with the benefits and he would sort it?
I wondered if he means it when he said he gambled because he blamed me?
I didn't wonder, if you love someone, that it doesn't matter if they gamble, but they have to tell you, so you know where the money's gone, I wonder if it's my fault he was afraid to tell me, because I would be upset?
I wondered if my being so affected by his happiness or depression puts an unbearable pressure on him, if he is right and we should split?
I wondered how I was going to make everything right for our son to come home tomorrow?
The cat purred and twisted, making me happy, then, because he was. He is a young cat, more confident than our two that were ferral kittens. I'm never quite sure when they are going to stop wanting to be stroked and lash out.
The little tabby next to me as I type this, is like a miniature wild cat. My partner looked them up - she even has the blunt ended tail which is a sure sign of wildcat ancestry. She is the chattiest cat I've met, a noise for every occasion. Sometimes, when she is really happy, she reaches out with her paw, and digs her claws into my hand. She has really thick pale brown claws. She looks embarrassed when she does this. The powderpuff tom pats with velvet white paws, when he runs out of patience, then bites, suddenly looking up to see how you take it, as he chews on your hand. I don't think either of them mean to hurt. Our son loves them both. He is a cat person.