on finding a new love
Last week I said I may not write for a while and here I am writing. But yesterday I had a very good day and lately, good days have been rare.
As you may remember, I lost my Madeleine in early April. She would have been nineteen this Tuesday last. My little flat has been very quiet. And with all my new job stresses, I only had me to think about. Not a good combination. If you read my blog last week, you understand what I’m saying.
I’d been perusing the PAWS website since about a week after Madeleine died and I had filled out the lengthy adoption form. But I wasn’t ready.
Last week changed my mind. PAWS was having a special on June thirtieth where they’d waive the adoption fees for cats over one year and dogs over seven months. Was I ready?
Friday, after work, I went and bought new cat supplies: a litter pan, litter, stainless steel water and food bowls, a bed, scratching post, cat nip, brush, food, and toys. Just in case.
Friday night, a new friend from work texted me asking what I was doing Saturday. I told her. She volunteered to drive me. How nice!
So we arrived about ten minutes early and for some reason I was very surprised to see such a long queue, waiting to adopt. It made me both happy and annoyed. Ha ha. (My impatience issue again.)
Thank goodness I’d already filled out the form! But when I’d called the center Friday after work and specifically asked what I needed to bring, I was not told one very important piece of information: I needed to bring my lease to show I could have animals in my apartment. I explained how I wasn’t told this to the woman behind the desk. And as I was not given this particular information, the shelter manager would talk to my property manager and get a verbal okay. Phew!
Finally, we were granted access to view the available cats. We went first to the senior room. One cat, an orange tabby named Bret, was very affectionate, but we detected a bit of jealousy and attitude. Miller was lying in a bed, very calm, and with the most amazingly-coloured eyes we’d ever seen on a cat.
We decided to look at more cats, but I was afraid someone would take Miller. I was drawn to his calmness and striking tabby looks. It also looked like the tip of his left ear was cut off, either intentionally or in an accident. It added a tinge of mystery to his story.
So we went back and I announced I wanted Miller.
The next step began. I viewed his veterinary and foster history. Check. I then sat with a man who explained everything to me: I had two weeks with Miller before everything was final. How I shouldn’t declaw him, how he should remain indoors, etc. Check, check, check, etc.
We went to Petco across the street to buy a carrier and another container of litter. (Only so much I could carry Friday!) and returned to claim Miller.
He didn’t make a peep on the ride home. And he stayed under the bed for some time. But he came out when tempted by dried chicken treats given to him by my friend.
He liked the peapod-shaped toy I got him. He used his scratching post. And my carpet. But it’s from Overstock.com and was actually an error on their part which I kept and received credit, so it’s really not a big deal.
When I looked for him after my shower, he was on my bed instead of under it. He didn’t seem too interested in eating yesterday, but this morning, the food bowls were empty. He’d used the litter box. He slept in one of my wing chairs. He awoke me with his soft-spoken meows at around 5:30. No belly pouncing.
A good first night. He won’t let me pick him up yet, but that’s okay. Madeleine struggled with that aspect for about two years. And she was twelve weeks old when I got her, not eight years.
All in all, I think we’re going to be just fine. I've given Miller a first name, Henry, if only because cats in my home always have two names. And then there is the literary connection. Once again, a beautiful, unassuming little cat will save me from my dark thoughts. And I have no words for the gratitude I feel.
As you may remember, I lost my Madeleine in early April. She would have been nineteen this Tuesday last. My little flat has been very quiet. And with all my new job stresses, I only had me to think about. Not a good combination. If you read my blog last week, you understand what I’m saying.
I’d been perusing the PAWS website since about a week after Madeleine died and I had filled out the lengthy adoption form. But I wasn’t ready.
Last week changed my mind. PAWS was having a special on June thirtieth where they’d waive the adoption fees for cats over one year and dogs over seven months. Was I ready?
Friday, after work, I went and bought new cat supplies: a litter pan, litter, stainless steel water and food bowls, a bed, scratching post, cat nip, brush, food, and toys. Just in case.
Friday night, a new friend from work texted me asking what I was doing Saturday. I told her. She volunteered to drive me. How nice!
So we arrived about ten minutes early and for some reason I was very surprised to see such a long queue, waiting to adopt. It made me both happy and annoyed. Ha ha. (My impatience issue again.)
Thank goodness I’d already filled out the form! But when I’d called the center Friday after work and specifically asked what I needed to bring, I was not told one very important piece of information: I needed to bring my lease to show I could have animals in my apartment. I explained how I wasn’t told this to the woman behind the desk. And as I was not given this particular information, the shelter manager would talk to my property manager and get a verbal okay. Phew!
Finally, we were granted access to view the available cats. We went first to the senior room. One cat, an orange tabby named Bret, was very affectionate, but we detected a bit of jealousy and attitude. Miller was lying in a bed, very calm, and with the most amazingly-coloured eyes we’d ever seen on a cat.
We decided to look at more cats, but I was afraid someone would take Miller. I was drawn to his calmness and striking tabby looks. It also looked like the tip of his left ear was cut off, either intentionally or in an accident. It added a tinge of mystery to his story.
So we went back and I announced I wanted Miller.
The next step began. I viewed his veterinary and foster history. Check. I then sat with a man who explained everything to me: I had two weeks with Miller before everything was final. How I shouldn’t declaw him, how he should remain indoors, etc. Check, check, check, etc.
We went to Petco across the street to buy a carrier and another container of litter. (Only so much I could carry Friday!) and returned to claim Miller.
He didn’t make a peep on the ride home. And he stayed under the bed for some time. But he came out when tempted by dried chicken treats given to him by my friend.
He liked the peapod-shaped toy I got him. He used his scratching post. And my carpet. But it’s from Overstock.com and was actually an error on their part which I kept and received credit, so it’s really not a big deal.
When I looked for him after my shower, he was on my bed instead of under it. He didn’t seem too interested in eating yesterday, but this morning, the food bowls were empty. He’d used the litter box. He slept in one of my wing chairs. He awoke me with his soft-spoken meows at around 5:30. No belly pouncing.
A good first night. He won’t let me pick him up yet, but that’s okay. Madeleine struggled with that aspect for about two years. And she was twelve weeks old when I got her, not eight years.
All in all, I think we’re going to be just fine. I've given Miller a first name, Henry, if only because cats in my home always have two names. And then there is the literary connection. Once again, a beautiful, unassuming little cat will save me from my dark thoughts. And I have no words for the gratitude I feel.
And please, readers, there are so many animals looking for a forever home. Please consider adoption.
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| old blue eyes Mr. Henry Miller Portrait No. 1 ©Trish Korous 2018 |
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