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Cats are Neurotic

My husband would say a headline like this should be published in the scientific journal titled, “Duh”.

As you may know from a previous post, we recently acquired a new cat. This cat is doomed to be forever compared to her predecessor – kind of like saying, “why can’t you be more like your brother.” Their personalities couldn’t be more different.

Aloof and confident, Horatio ruled his territory with only a bored glance, but wasn’t afraid to let you know when he needed you. Cleopatra keeps an alert eye on her surroundings at all times. She runs and hides with the slightest hint of movement in her direction and yet she seems to consider me her safe place.

When everyone else has left the house she creeps out of her hiding spot and sneakily peeks at me from behind various vantage points. Then she follows me if I’m moving around the house, until I turn around – at which point she freezes and either looks panicked, or becomes really interested in nonchalantly sniffing something nearby. If I’m sitting reading or typing, she slowly walks over, sniffs the couch, tests its structural integrity with her claws and then climbs up, situating herself in such a way that I can’t possibly move or get anything done.

If I do manage to move or re-situate her, she jumps up, looks at me like all of a sudden this kind, safe, stationary person, became a super scary, unpredictable moving person, and runs away to hide.

Then we start the game all over again.

She’s also a black cat, so the stalking me around the house thing can be a little creepy. Not that I am superstitious…

But in the evenings when all is quiet and my husband and I are relaxing with a book or television, and she climbs up to cuddle in the blanket – this black ball of fur purring in my lap, I realize why pets are such a treat for the soul.

(I also feel a bit like an evil villain as I stroke her fur and hatch my master plan)

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Posted by on November 13, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Kismet

A couple of weeks ago we took advantage of the Humane Society’s free adoption weekend. Our cat of ten years had disappeared and the kids and I were ready for a new kitty.

Horatio is irreplaceable. We rescued him as a kitten and he grew up with my kids. He embodied both fierce male independence and loving patience. He acted with many dog traits. We never kept food or litter in the house, because he always meowed at the door when he needed to go out to the garage. He hunted voraciously and often left animal parts as gifts to me. He roamed the neighborhood making friends with all of the neighbors and willingly accepting their food offerings. Horatio didn’t need a lot of love and attention, but was very sweet when he wanted to be.

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RIP Horatio

Knowing we couldn’t replace him, we wanted the polar opposite: female, indoor, cuddly. I did some research and found a beautiful one-year-old black female with mesmerizing green eyes. When my daughters and I arrived at the shelter, it was a madhouse. Several people waited on a row of chairs, while others filled out paperwork outside, while still others crowded in cat rooms interacting with possible new pets. I looked at my girls and mouthed, “let’s go.”

Once outside they begged to have a chance to stay and see some of the cats. “We came all the way over here, the least we can do is look at some!”

They talked me into going back in. This time one of the volunteers asked us if they could help. I mentioned that I had seen a picture of a cat online named, Kismet. As you may know, Kismet means fate.

She had been kept upstairs all day which meant she hadn’t been available for adoption….she was waiting for us. They brought her down and introduced her to us in a private room. As soon as the girl’s met her it was obvious we weren’t leaving without her.

We are still getting used to each other and adjusting. Sometimes she spends much of the day hiding and we call her shadow; other times she cuddles and purrs on our laps, but she is our kitty and we love her. I joke that she is like “Annie” in Fifty First Dates. We have to convince her each day that we aren’t scary strangers.

We renamed her Cleopatra – Cleo for short. But I’ll never forget that it was “Kismet” that led us to her.

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Posted by on November 2, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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