I’ve been thinking during the past three weeks that a cat might be good company. So I took myself to the Humane Society yesterday, and looked at many, many cats, all up for adoption.
I knew that I did not want a kitten, and that my future cat should be short-haired.
“Marguerite” took my eye. She came right to the front of her cage, and allowed me to tickle her face. We went to the play room, and she allowed me to caress her, without protest.
Joyce was the volunteer who was with me. She told me that this week the Humane Society was offering cats “two for the price of one”.
I rose to the bait, so Joyce left the play room to fetch “Bubba”, “Marguerite’s” room mate.
“Bubba” could not be enticed of his shelf. He was shy/nervous beyond all belief.
So I went into “Bubba’s” cage, and he allowed me to pet him without protest.
So I decided to adopt both cats.
The price for cats at the Humane Society is $55, so I thought that I’d be getting two for $55. But lo and behold, there was a $50 discount, so the cats cost me $5.
But the bill came to $80 once I included litter and litter boxes, food, dishes and a crate. Still a bargain.
So home the cats came. But I had to give them new names. I did not want a “Marguerite” and a “Bubba”.
So “Marguerite” became “Adelaide”. I had decided a few months ago that Adelaide would be a perfect name for a female cat. She will be four years old in August.
Any Yankee, even an adopted one such as I, could not live with a cat named “Bubba”. So he, less than a year old, needed a name change. I thought of another name beginning with “Ad”, hit upon “Adam”, and then decided that he would be “Adams”, in honour of John Adams of Massachusetts, Second President of these United States.
Adelaide is very adventurous. She has explored my home (bedrooms off limit), and found a place where she can look outside. She will follow me anywhere. Already when I open the front door she comes rushing to meet me. She loves to be caressed, but on her own terms. She alone decides when the time is right.
Adams is so shy. (Joyce and I think that he has been previously mistreated). He’s been with me for 24 hours (as of the time of writing), and has not left the cage. But he will allow me to reach a hand in to caress his head and neck. And when I’ve left a few bits of dried food in the crate, in due course he has eaten them .
I’ll give him time. For now, the crate (with an open door) is his safe place.
Don’t we all need to be caressed?
Don’t we all need a safe place?