In Search of My Kitties. Part 2
Saying Goodbye to Rebop:
A while back, I wrote of having to let go of my much-loved cat Rebop. I had to do what was right for her and release her to the universe from kidney failure and cancer. It took me a couple months to process and for the pet crematory I had handle her final care to send an envelope of tributes, her paw print, and a swatch of her fur. The print is on my bookcase next to her photo and near the angel card from the dance camp I attended in Mexico.
Resettling and Reflecting:
Meanwhile, I’d been resettling, all the while knowing that in due time I’d want a couple cats again. They and I do better together. I had in mind a bonded pair of females, if possible. Not to replace, which could never happen. Loved creatures aren’t interchangeable, can’t be substituted. And I hold close all the kitties I’ve shared time and space with. Their names, personalities, souls imprinted on my heart.
Desultory Search:
But I began a desultory search for new “friends” to share my home. To continue the story, to build community together. I bought two new, more spacious, cat carriers to open space. And I opened my heart and prepared to open my home to surprise and serendipity. Not putting much energy into it, I hoped it would just happen.
Mystery of Strays:
There’s an inherent mystery to taking in strays, as I have in the past. Where were they before? Had they been treated well or badly? Were they physically abused? Had they gone without food? Had they been scared away? Being non-verbal, they can’t say, but they signal with degrees of skittish. And we can only wait to see how long it will take them to settle in, to trust. Certainly, being the food provider helps. After a while, they start wanting to cuddle, to be petted. We all do need someone to love a la the Jefferson Airplane song.
Urban Adoption Challenges:
Since I’ve moved to more suburban/urban environments, the process has grown more complicated. I’ve had to shift to rescue cats from non-profit pet adoption organizations. These cats are different, have less agency, and come with some record of recent history, though not what they went through before. There seem to be scads of such organizations. And some, frankly, are rudimentary, one-or-two person operations, a little shaky and sketchy, long in heart but limited in organization. I recognize folks operating in this sphere as another sub-culture, one of many I seem to keep stumbling over.
First Adoption Attempt:
Easing into action, but with limited enthusiasm, I went online, made a couple phone calls. I visited. First try was in a woman’s home. I sensed her kind and generous heart, but she had cats everywhere, piled in towel-lined cardboard box tops on kitchen counters, in cages. The scene was cat hording with some available for adoption. I’m sure she did her best, but the smell, impossible to keep down, reminded me of the offices of a zoo I once visited that were next to the big cat house. Interestingly, I was doing a report on animal extinctions and needed to look at their “Red Book,” the International Union for Conservation of Nature’s list of threatened species. Not as simple and clearcut as we might imagine. Turns out not being seen doesn’t mean species no longer exist. Survivors may just be hiding, and not trusting of humans. And who can blame them?
Evaluating Feral Cats:
At this smaller cat house, my hostess described a few of her charges as “can’t pick up.” I took that to mean essentially feral. Should that translate to unadoptable? If I wanted two, she offered to pick up one she’d been feeding on the street. I filled out the form but felt hesitant. At home, when a friend called, I shared my reservations, then withdrew my application by text. I hadn’t felt a connection with any of the cats. And how could I, would that even be possible, in the circumstances? And how would feral cats work/live in my home? Would they constantly be alert for chances escape? How destructive would they be if contained? Would/could they bond? Would/could I bond with them? And isn’t the whole point?
Second Adoption Attempt:
Second try, referred by the first woman, was a gift shop with cats to adopt. It takes all kinds in this sub-culture world. Only one caught my fancy/imagination, a lovely tan tiger stripe, but she had eye issues, fluid oozing. I filled out the form anyway. Trust in serendipity to make the match, as I had before with strays. The folks there checked my references with my previous vet, who knows I have cared for and loved multiple cats over the years. I received a follow up phone call after some delay. Short on volunteers to help, I learned. In a lengthy conversation, I learned many of the other cats also had health issues and as a result, some had been there for years. And though they posted approximate ages, they weren’t sure on some. And I, having recently lived with and cared for aging, sick/ailing, cats, have had to make decisions to terminate too often. And I don’t feel up to doing it again right now. So, once again I withdrew my application by text. Was that getting to be a pattern?
Unexpected Opportunity:
Meanwhile, a friend sent me an Instagram message offering a pair of “Rag Doll” cats—brother and sister—“free to a good home.” Not the two females I’d envisioned. But in the photo, they were gorgeous, longhair, a mix of cream, russet-tan, brown, black. They looked pure bred too, like maybe Himalayan. And, frankly, they looked expensive. And it’s a breed I’d never heard of. A little research shows a combination of Persian, Bengal, etc. Bred to be docile family cats. Have to say that I’ve often been a bit judgmental of folks who go for purebreds. Seems snobbish, that regular cats who need homes are not good enough. And were these guys “out of my league,” as a regular cat person?
Meeting Coco and Café:
Uncertain, but I still got in touch. Other folks in line, I was told. When I heard nothing back, I assumed they’d gone to someone else. And I’d have to resume my search, but then I got the call. Was I still interested? So, the other options hadn’t come through after all? Well, yes, I guess. Could I meet them? And so, I went. Even more beautiful in person, they’re siblings, the female Coco and the male Café’. Great choices with their lovely coloring. They’re 5 years old, a good age— not kittens who will climb drapes and scale furniture and still young enough to stay healthy for a good while.
The Backstory:
I got some back story on the reason why. The family love the cats and have clearly taken great care of them. Didn’t want to let them go but had no choice. They have serious asthma and allergy issues, the guy I talked with and the 1 ½ year old son. And there’s another baby boy just 5 months. So, who knows with him?
Unexpected Transition:
Should I come back another time, I asked. No, better and less disruptive for them to do it now. So, something did just happen. I had brought those new carriers just in case. And next thing, I had the two kitties in them—and their familiar covered litter box and a baggie of food in the back of my car. All a bit overwhelming, but otherwise they might have ended up homeless and in another pet adoption horde. Driving away, I flashed back to an early memory of a time when my mother almost died and, with no Plan B backup plan, my siblings and I were schlepped around, unasked, like pieces of luggage. There’s a photo of us, in a ballpark grandstand naturally, looking like refugee kids. So, apparently, I’m the best option.
Adjusting to the New Home:
Now, about a month in, we’re still adjusting. My policy with cats, learned from strays, is to show them where food, water, and litter box are and then let them roam, explore, discover the house. And so, I’m often not quite sure where they are at any given moment. As I was told, the male Café is shyer and more anxious than the female Coco. He shed hair from his back legs after a previous move. And he’s doing it again. But I’m assured it grows back. Both came out our second night together. She rested on the couch near me, while he occupied a patch of floor nearby. But he retreated when I got up. They started sleeping on my bed.
Maintaining Connections:
Open “adoption,” so I text the former family with updates. Send photos. I receive replies: warming up quicker than expected. I must be doing something right. And they know/sense a “cat person” when they encounter one. I text the male had found a convenient hiding spot near food, water, litter box. He has since moved on from there. Makes himself more visible. I ask if the texting is becoming irritating, too much. When should I stop, I ask. Never, I’m told. They love seeing the cats happy. I hope they are happy, but again, they can’t say. Though I take it as a good sign that they—and especially he—no longer run away when I approach.
Serendipity and Belief:
Serendipity: I believe what’s meant for me will come to me. If I can stay patient and don’t get ahead of myself. A friend suggests I manifested the cats. And though not quite strays, they are the next thing. And they need a home and I have one. And they are so beautiful, an ongoing aesthetic experience. The same friend points out they’re not really pedigree, more high-end mixed breed, like say Labradoodles in dogs. So, perhaps I can loosen up on that. Another friend notes they came into my life around my birthday. She suggested they could be my present to myself. I hadn’t thought of it that way.
Creating Special Bonds:
Since they already have names, I don’t have that option as I would with strays. But I start to coin special nicknames to make them more mine. Coco Puff? Coco Puffette? Coquette? Cocolicious? More challenging with the male in all ways, but Café Latte? Café Chai Latte? My favorite, not being a coffee drinker. He has more of the Persian flat face, wide head. And he becomes My Little Lion, because he reminds me, though his mane is lower, around his neck, like a Medieval ruff.
Embracing New Companionship:
And so, we proceed in early bonding. And I trust we’ll eventually get there. And they will gradually, by osmosis, become mine and I become theirs. That’s the same way it works with strays. And isn’t that the way life happens too?