If you’ve been around for a while, you might remember last year when Nick brought home a fluffy little footstool of a dog “just for tonight.” The short version of the story is that I agreed to watch after the pooch for the night… then promptly fell in love, named her Not-Lulu, and cried when her owners turned up. That’s a story about how I sometimes am sentimental.
This is a story about how I sometimes am not.
Because, you see, there is a cat. This is not the cat in the flier above, although that cat “is,” too. No, I’m referring to Boo, the demented, cantankerous shedding machine who has been with us since 2001 and is really not so much a cat as he is a roving urine sprinkler. On a bad day, by the power of his great bladder alone, Boo is capable of singlehandedly transforming our laminate dining room floor into the world’s most unfortunate slip-and-slide. And also by the power of Boo’s great bladder, I have absolutely NO interest in acquiring another indoor cat. Ever.
Which is why, when two neighborhood boys came by the other day with a very tiny and sickly-looking kitten for sale, my response was along the lines of, “Ahhhh… yeah, no. I don’t think so.” Only then I made the mistake of making a bit of small talk. (Note for your general edification: Filling silence is a deadly mistake, every time.) It was through this small talk that I determined that the kitten was far too little to be away from her mother, and also that the boys in front of me were actually savvy businessmen who saw an opportunity to turn their bad luck – a mother who told them that no way could they keep this cat – into a quick way to earn some cash. When they declined my offer to take the wee kitty off their hands and deliver her to a rescue, I began to worry about the well-being of their little cash cow, ultimately resulting in me chasing down the boys at the end of the street to trade 10 crumpled dollar bills for one crusty-eyed, raggedy baby cat.
Who I don’t want.
I call her Nameless Kitty because, unlike Not-Lulu, I really don’t care what her name is. She is very sweet and snuggly, and loves to sleep cuddled up inside my zippered sweatshirt. She peed prolifically all over the exam table at the veterinarian’s office, adding a $1.99 “sanitary clean up” line item to the bill and reaffirming that something in my bearing causes cats to piss all over themselves for no good reason whatsoever. But we got all the appropriate medications to treat the respiratory and eye infections that were making Nameless Kitty look so pathetic. Meaning that we are that much closer to getting the wee furrball shelf-ready and available for placement with a family that is not mine.
So, here’s the deal… I want to get her well before we move her again. I am not sentimental about cats, but I’m no Cruella DeVille – the poor thing’s been through a lot in the last few days. She sees the vet again next week and will get her first vaccinations. And then she will be ready for a forever home.
Do you live in western NY and want a really cute little cat? I’ve got just the kitty for you!