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d_aulnoyThis weekend, we adopted a new cat. The Gnu suggested it soon after Gypsy's passing, the getting of a kitten, and at first I felt kind of weird about it. Sort of as though it would be ... disrespecting the cat's memory, as though it would imply that she was easily replaced. A terrible metaphor that is floating around out there in the world did nothing to help it: a few people compared the idea of getting a new pet soon after the passing of a much-loved pet to a rebound relationship. And, given the responsibilities of pet ownership ... imagine being stuck with a rebound guy for ten years or so. Brrrrrrrrrr.
But, then I thought about it a little, and realized that, hey, I'd been wanting to get another cat while Gypsy was still alive 'cause I just plain like cats, and I wasn't expecting the new kitty to by a Gypsy-clone but just another affectionate little furry roommate, and, well, luckily, my romantic relationships with people and my human-pet relationships with cats had very little in common. So, we went to the shelter.
Well, to be precise, we went to two shelters, a cat show, and the pound. Man, that was depressing. We'd spent the night before looking online for likely candidates: bless you and curse you, PetFinder.com. PetFinder is one of those things that seems like it should be a good idea, but the problem is, it's just not that well-run. I had exactly three qualities in mind for a new cat: I wanted it to be young-ish, I wanted it to be female, and I wanted it to be at least part Siamese. The young-ish because I'd like to have as much time with it as possible, but because getting a flat-out kitten would be cruel with our schedules, the female because the male cats I've had have had a tendency to be somewhat more aggressive and I've rather gotten to like my ankles, and the part Siamese because, c'mon, now. They talk! They have a distinct tendency to follow you around the house! They have enormous, bat-like ears and they almost always look vaguely pissed off! Hey, I don't judge you for your weird things.
So, according to PetFinder, there were oodles and oodles of young female Siamese around! And so we went from shelter to shelter, looking for, a) young female Siamese, and, b) a cat I would just plain click with. I cannot really describe the clicking: trying just got the Gnu to look at me like I was crazy, somewhere between the first shelter and the pound. The first shelter had lots of cute cats, but I didn't look at any of them and go from "What a charming little feline" to "I am going to smuggle that cat home in my purse, so help me." But, PetFinder lied, and I just didn't click.
The pound made me frikkin' cry, because every animal there was sick and miserable looking and I kind of wanted to take them all home on principle ... except for the principle of, "Man, I hate the pound," since I remembered that I would much rather give money to a no-kill place and support their efforts. Since the pound also lacked all the cats we'd seen online but did have a bunch of empty cages directing us to the local Civic Center, we went to a cat show.
Oh, wow, there are a lot of funny-looking purebreeds out there. No offense is intended to people who love pure-breeds of every breed out there, but, a), it is possible to take a good thing too far (as, for example, with the many skinny hairless cats who were wearing wee sweaters in the (ahem!) arctic chill of Southern California, and b), the $600 bucks it would take to buy a purebreed kitten would pay for a lot of kibble at a shelter. So, just as we were about to abandon hope and go home for the day, the Gnu had the bright idea of dropping by the PetCo on the way home to see if any non-PetFinder approved shelters were adopting out there.
And that's where we found Sylvie. Two minutes after walking in, a little girl name Angel (no I am not kidding) came up and somewhat officiously asked us what we were looking for. I gave her my list, she thought about it for a minute (and, no kidding, she could not have been older than 13 or so), and came back with Sylvie. Boom! Love at first sight. The shelter had left her file behind that day, as she was basically the last cat onto the bus, but they'll be mailing it to us: all they could tell us was that she was white (um ... yes!) and thus probably part Siamese, female and about a year old, and affectionate.
Having just gotten back from the vet, I now have a little bit of additional info.: she has ear mites, conjunctivitis, some mysterious scarring on her front left paw that makes her point like an Irish setter when she's feeling indecisive, potential intestinal issues, and sutures in her belly that came from a neutering that came a bit too late. Though they guaged her age at probably somewhere under a year, she'd already had kittens. Oy! But, she's neutered now, she's gotten a nice dose of anti-ookiness for the ear mites and most stomach disorders, and I have a little tube of ointment to squirt in her eyes thrice daily. This should be fun.
Now, you'll notice I said "most" stomach disorders. To rule out the remaining few, I was given a plastic baggie and a stick and told to return with a stool sample. Have you ever had to do this? Pound for pound (and ohmygod, I hope that neither my students nor my publishers are reading this), there is nothing in this world more fun than waiting around for your cat to take a dump so that you can steal her poo. Seriously, even the cat thought this was weird. She was standing there with her head cocked to one side, mrrrrping quizzically, obviously thinking something like, "Lady, why are you stealing my poo?" But, the stool sample has been retrieved and delivered, and I should have some results soon.
Otherwise, and more importantly? She's a nice little cat. She's talkative, and affectionate, and she woke us up the first night by touching noses with the Gnu: since then, she's taken to sleeping at the foot of the bed and wandering up once we're actually awake to say good morning with a few minutes of petting. She's definitely not Gypsy ... but then again, I haven't had her for ten years, either. I'm looking forward to getting to know her quirks, and gaining her trust.
And, for people who hate clicking on additional links or are deeply poo-phobic, a picture of Sylvie curled up beneath my workbench:
But, then I thought about it a little, and realized that, hey, I'd been wanting to get another cat while Gypsy was still alive 'cause I just plain like cats, and I wasn't expecting the new kitty to by a Gypsy-clone but just another affectionate little furry roommate, and, well, luckily, my romantic relationships with people and my human-pet relationships with cats had very little in common. So, we went to the shelter.
Well, to be precise, we went to two shelters, a cat show, and the pound. Man, that was depressing. We'd spent the night before looking online for likely candidates: bless you and curse you, PetFinder.com. PetFinder is one of those things that seems like it should be a good idea, but the problem is, it's just not that well-run. I had exactly three qualities in mind for a new cat: I wanted it to be young-ish, I wanted it to be female, and I wanted it to be at least part Siamese. The young-ish because I'd like to have as much time with it as possible, but because getting a flat-out kitten would be cruel with our schedules, the female because the male cats I've had have had a tendency to be somewhat more aggressive and I've rather gotten to like my ankles, and the part Siamese because, c'mon, now. They talk! They have a distinct tendency to follow you around the house! They have enormous, bat-like ears and they almost always look vaguely pissed off! Hey, I don't judge you for your weird things.
So, according to PetFinder, there were oodles and oodles of young female Siamese around! And so we went from shelter to shelter, looking for, a) young female Siamese, and, b) a cat I would just plain click with. I cannot really describe the clicking: trying just got the Gnu to look at me like I was crazy, somewhere between the first shelter and the pound. The first shelter had lots of cute cats, but I didn't look at any of them and go from "What a charming little feline" to "I am going to smuggle that cat home in my purse, so help me." But, PetFinder lied, and I just didn't click.
The pound made me frikkin' cry, because every animal there was sick and miserable looking and I kind of wanted to take them all home on principle ... except for the principle of, "Man, I hate the pound," since I remembered that I would much rather give money to a no-kill place and support their efforts. Since the pound also lacked all the cats we'd seen online but did have a bunch of empty cages directing us to the local Civic Center, we went to a cat show.
Oh, wow, there are a lot of funny-looking purebreeds out there. No offense is intended to people who love pure-breeds of every breed out there, but, a), it is possible to take a good thing too far (as, for example, with the many skinny hairless cats who were wearing wee sweaters in the (ahem!) arctic chill of Southern California, and b), the $600 bucks it would take to buy a purebreed kitten would pay for a lot of kibble at a shelter. So, just as we were about to abandon hope and go home for the day, the Gnu had the bright idea of dropping by the PetCo on the way home to see if any non-PetFinder approved shelters were adopting out there.
And that's where we found Sylvie. Two minutes after walking in, a little girl name Angel (no I am not kidding) came up and somewhat officiously asked us what we were looking for. I gave her my list, she thought about it for a minute (and, no kidding, she could not have been older than 13 or so), and came back with Sylvie. Boom! Love at first sight. The shelter had left her file behind that day, as she was basically the last cat onto the bus, but they'll be mailing it to us: all they could tell us was that she was white (um ... yes!) and thus probably part Siamese, female and about a year old, and affectionate.
Having just gotten back from the vet, I now have a little bit of additional info.: she has ear mites, conjunctivitis, some mysterious scarring on her front left paw that makes her point like an Irish setter when she's feeling indecisive, potential intestinal issues, and sutures in her belly that came from a neutering that came a bit too late. Though they guaged her age at probably somewhere under a year, she'd already had kittens. Oy! But, she's neutered now, she's gotten a nice dose of anti-ookiness for the ear mites and most stomach disorders, and I have a little tube of ointment to squirt in her eyes thrice daily. This should be fun.
Now, you'll notice I said "most" stomach disorders. To rule out the remaining few, I was given a plastic baggie and a stick and told to return with a stool sample. Have you ever had to do this? Pound for pound (and ohmygod, I hope that neither my students nor my publishers are reading this), there is nothing in this world more fun than waiting around for your cat to take a dump so that you can steal her poo. Seriously, even the cat thought this was weird. She was standing there with her head cocked to one side, mrrrrping quizzically, obviously thinking something like, "Lady, why are you stealing my poo?" But, the stool sample has been retrieved and delivered, and I should have some results soon.
Otherwise, and more importantly? She's a nice little cat. She's talkative, and affectionate, and she woke us up the first night by touching noses with the Gnu: since then, she's taken to sleeping at the foot of the bed and wandering up once we're actually awake to say good morning with a few minutes of petting. She's definitely not Gypsy ... but then again, I haven't had her for ten years, either. I'm looking forward to getting to know her quirks, and gaining her trust.
And, for people who hate clicking on additional links or are deeply poo-phobic, a picture of Sylvie curled up beneath my workbench: