Today is Autism Awareness Day and the beginning of Autism Awareness Month.
Long-time readers of this blog will remember that autism awareness was the subject of the very first post on The House Where the Black Cat Lives two (!) years ago.
I remain passionate about this topic, because like cat rescue and spaying and neutering, I know something about it. My 10-year-old niece lives with autism.
Increasingly, cats (and dogs and horses) are being used as therapy animals for children with autism. Today, I stumbled across this lovely story about how cats helped the author's son learn to communicate.
The part that made my eyes well up was when he said, "Cats are like me." I feel that way myself which makes me wonder if I, too, was touched, if ever so slightly, by the brush of autism.
Now if you read the story of the House Where The Black Cat Lives over on the right side of this page, you'll figure out that cats are unlikely to be my niece "N"'s therapy animal of choice. (Actual cats that is. She still loves drawing pictures of them.)
That said "cat" was among her early words, at a time when she was almost completely non-verbal. But that was before the infamous "black cat" incident. She is, however, fascinated by all things canine. And I have witnessed her blossom in the presence of a horse, grooming, mounting and riding it with a near-religious reverence.
N is coming to visit later in the month. Perhaps she and the cats will have a breakthrough. Perhaps not.
At the very least, I'll probably get a new drawing of the cats for my refrigerator.
Long-time readers of this blog will remember that autism awareness was the subject of the very first post on The House Where the Black Cat Lives two (!) years ago.
I remain passionate about this topic, because like cat rescue and spaying and neutering, I know something about it. My 10-year-old niece lives with autism.
Increasingly, cats (and dogs and horses) are being used as therapy animals for children with autism. Today, I stumbled across this lovely story about how cats helped the author's son learn to communicate.
The part that made my eyes well up was when he said, "Cats are like me." I feel that way myself which makes me wonder if I, too, was touched, if ever so slightly, by the brush of autism.
Now if you read the story of the House Where The Black Cat Lives over on the right side of this page, you'll figure out that cats are unlikely to be my niece "N"'s therapy animal of choice. (Actual cats that is. She still loves drawing pictures of them.)
That said "cat" was among her early words, at a time when she was almost completely non-verbal. But that was before the infamous "black cat" incident. She is, however, fascinated by all things canine. And I have witnessed her blossom in the presence of a horse, grooming, mounting and riding it with a near-religious reverence.
N is coming to visit later in the month. Perhaps she and the cats will have a breakthrough. Perhaps not.
At the very least, I'll probably get a new drawing of the cats for my refrigerator.
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