She showed up on a Thursday evening in mid-July. There she sat in my flowerbed, meowing up at my living room window--lost, hungry, unarmed, afraid. I let her in for what I thought would be a couple of days while I got her back to her home.
I told myself not to get attached. She belonged to someone. She had to. She was declawed, after all, and spayed. Those are alterations you make to a cat you're planning to keep, right?
I told myself it was too soon. Delilah hadn't even been dead six months yet. I wanted to wait at least a year before even thinking about getting another cat.
Then that Sunday I looked at her, and the name "Sophie" came unbidden to my lips. And she answered to it. And I realized that when her owner answered the ads I just put in the paper I would be really sorry to see her go. It didn't occur to me at first that no one would answer. She's a sweet-natured little thing, of course someone was worried and missing her.
Fast forward six months--she's still here, and here for good. She has settled in. I believe she thinks of this as her home. We're past the getting-to-know-you phase, working on the this-is-our-routine phase.
She doesn't like:
- Being alone for any length of time
- The sound of tinfoil rattling
- Water in her bowl that's over a couple hours old
- Being carried around
- Dogs (yet. I have a sister with a cat-loving dog named Daisy. I'm sure Daisy would love to win over Sophie)
- Sitting on my lap
- Static shock (well, who does? I'm sick of the snapcracklepop that goes on all winter too)
- Cardboard boxes (empty or full)
- Having her face and/or belly rubbed
- Yarn (if it's animal-based)
- The round ends of knitting needles
- Pretending to scratch the furniture
- Mouse-shaped cat toys
- Kneading me anywhere she can (arm, leg, chest...)
- Sitting in a fleece bed by the sliding glass door to watch the world go by
- Smacking little fuzzy balls under furniture for me to fish out and give back to her
- Sleeping on my furry red bathrobe (provided it's folded and lying on the rocking chair)
She's talkative. I think she may be even more talkative than Delilah was, if you can believe it. She doesn't have the Siamese yowl, though. When she meows, it's like she's asking a question: "Meowwwooo? Meowwooowoo?"
Six months already. Hard to believe. Even harder to believe that someone abandoned her, discarded her like a toy that the novelty had worn off of. I do not understand people who act like that. As far as I'm concerned, when you take on a pet you are making them a promise that for as long as they live they can depend on you for protection, food, warmth, and love. It's a long-term commitment, a contract. It looks like these people (whoever they are) dumped her because she was no longer convenient to keep. It makes my blood boil.
Their loss is my gain. Big time.