I HAS A KITTY
Dec. 10th, 2008 03:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonwiseFor the last eight years, as long as I've been married, I've wanted a cat. My own kitty, to purr and sit on my lap. But, husband was allergic, and we lived in an apartment that didn't allow pets, and I thought I'd never have one.
About three weeks ago, husband decided that we'd take the plunge.
We originally tried to adopt a cat we saw at the Petsmart, a little grey tabby named Emmy. But, when we went back to visit with Emmy, we were told she was sick and had been sent back to her foster home to recover. About a week later, the shelter called us to tell us that Emmy's foster mother wanted to keep her, and would we like a different cat who looked just like Emmy?
The short answer was no, and we were disappointed. We liked Emmy.
Last Saturday, we went to a local no-kill shelter to see what cats they had up for adoption. We'd looked at some of their animals on Petfinder, and husband emailed me with some cats he was interested in. All of them, to a paw, were brown/black tabbies, like the late and beloved Rudy.
For those of you who didn't know me back then, I used to rent a room in a Polish lady's house near Princeton before I was married. Eva's daughter Joanna had done a Fulbright in Poland, and she brought two cats home with her - Siasia and her son Rudy. Rudy was a brown/black tabby, dumber than a box of rocks, but sweet and loving and amiable. We used to call him an old sock from the way he went boneless when you picked him up to hug him.
Tragically, Eva never really subscribed to the Western practice of indoor cats. She disliked having the cats poop in the house, and she felt it was healthier for them to go outside (which is probably true from an exercise standpoint.) But, she lived on a busy road, and one by one her pets were killed. First, Siasia, and I cried for days. Then her beloved dog Rufus. Then, after I was married, Rudy was killed when he was hit by a car for the second time.
Husband loved Rudy and Siasia, and they loved him in return. He was Cat Furniture of the first order, and he would lie still for hours when Siasia crawled up into his coat for a snooze. Husband has liked Rudy-kitties ever since. Rudy was our friend, and we still talk fondly about how he'd root catnip toys out of the bag, and how his tongue would poke out of his teeth when he was happy about being scratched.
There were many sweet kitties at St. Hubert's, including a little grey kitten that was very bitey, and a large black cat with striking gold eyes who wanted so badly to be loved that he would grab my hand with his paws and bonk his head against it. But, there was a crate outside the cattery door with a little Rudy-kitty munchkin inside, and we had to take a look. Her name was Biskett (now, Biscuit.)
We really didn't intend to walk out of the shelter with a kitten, but there we were, with a cardboard box and a bag of food. Biscuit cottoned to us immediately, and she spent her first car trip with us nestled against my husband's hand while I bought kitty things. She played for hours and hours when we brought her home, and she purred nonstop the entire time. That night, she wasted no time in finding us on the bed and cuddling up.
Here she is, in all her cuteness:
In the way that only a kitten can be, Biscuit has been into everything. She has been helping write the bills and the Christmas cards. She wants to go into the cabinets, the refrigerator, the oven, and the dishwasher, and she cries when we don't let her. She has discovered how to pull Christmas ornaments off the tree, and we have rediscovered that the purpose of the yardstick is not to measure things but to retrieve lost cat toys. She has two settings: "purr" and "off." Biscuit even purred at the vet's last night.
I'm so happy to have her, and she is clearly happy to have us. My parents are going to be so surprised when they come to visit. It's so wonderful to have my kitty at last - my very own.
About three weeks ago, husband decided that we'd take the plunge.
We originally tried to adopt a cat we saw at the Petsmart, a little grey tabby named Emmy. But, when we went back to visit with Emmy, we were told she was sick and had been sent back to her foster home to recover. About a week later, the shelter called us to tell us that Emmy's foster mother wanted to keep her, and would we like a different cat who looked just like Emmy?
The short answer was no, and we were disappointed. We liked Emmy.
Last Saturday, we went to a local no-kill shelter to see what cats they had up for adoption. We'd looked at some of their animals on Petfinder, and husband emailed me with some cats he was interested in. All of them, to a paw, were brown/black tabbies, like the late and beloved Rudy.
For those of you who didn't know me back then, I used to rent a room in a Polish lady's house near Princeton before I was married. Eva's daughter Joanna had done a Fulbright in Poland, and she brought two cats home with her - Siasia and her son Rudy. Rudy was a brown/black tabby, dumber than a box of rocks, but sweet and loving and amiable. We used to call him an old sock from the way he went boneless when you picked him up to hug him.
Tragically, Eva never really subscribed to the Western practice of indoor cats. She disliked having the cats poop in the house, and she felt it was healthier for them to go outside (which is probably true from an exercise standpoint.) But, she lived on a busy road, and one by one her pets were killed. First, Siasia, and I cried for days. Then her beloved dog Rufus. Then, after I was married, Rudy was killed when he was hit by a car for the second time.
Husband loved Rudy and Siasia, and they loved him in return. He was Cat Furniture of the first order, and he would lie still for hours when Siasia crawled up into his coat for a snooze. Husband has liked Rudy-kitties ever since. Rudy was our friend, and we still talk fondly about how he'd root catnip toys out of the bag, and how his tongue would poke out of his teeth when he was happy about being scratched.
There were many sweet kitties at St. Hubert's, including a little grey kitten that was very bitey, and a large black cat with striking gold eyes who wanted so badly to be loved that he would grab my hand with his paws and bonk his head against it. But, there was a crate outside the cattery door with a little Rudy-kitty munchkin inside, and we had to take a look. Her name was Biskett (now, Biscuit.)
We really didn't intend to walk out of the shelter with a kitten, but there we were, with a cardboard box and a bag of food. Biscuit cottoned to us immediately, and she spent her first car trip with us nestled against my husband's hand while I bought kitty things. She played for hours and hours when we brought her home, and she purred nonstop the entire time. That night, she wasted no time in finding us on the bed and cuddling up.
Here she is, in all her cuteness:
In the way that only a kitten can be, Biscuit has been into everything. She has been helping write the bills and the Christmas cards. She wants to go into the cabinets, the refrigerator, the oven, and the dishwasher, and she cries when we don't let her. She has discovered how to pull Christmas ornaments off the tree, and we have rediscovered that the purpose of the yardstick is not to measure things but to retrieve lost cat toys. She has two settings: "purr" and "off." Biscuit even purred at the vet's last night.
I'm so happy to have her, and she is clearly happy to have us. My parents are going to be so surprised when they come to visit. It's so wonderful to have my kitty at last - my very own.
