Saturday, January 15, 2011



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)
She does like:
  • 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)
  • Me.  
At bedtime she prefers to sleep next to me rather than on me, which at first hurt my feelings but now I find I like.  This way I don't have to worry about disturbing her if I change position.  Also?  She's not completely settled for the night until she has her face resting in my cupped hand.  All together now, "Awwwwww."  I know.  Precious.

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.


Anonymous said...

Very nice.
And a blessing you are to eachother. Way it's supposed to be!

Average Jane said...

It made me happy to read that. So glad you and Sophie found each other!

Anonymous said...

Declawed and spayed...
I can't imagine the original pet owner just dumping her. I'd almost think something else happened to put your cat out there on her own. That's a lot of $$ to spend and then just willy nilly let her go. Just doesn't click.
However, she's ok now, and that's the important thing.

Holly said...

What a beautiful cat! I agree, definitely your gain and their loss! I don't understand people who dump cats either. :(