The search has been teetering on the brink of actually getting a cat for some time now. We started my looking at websites of animal shelters and in newspapers and on craigslist, but really it got too sad to look at these adorable cats and not be able to get them.
Recently I moved into a new apartment and so with all the moving expenses and getting settled, it just wasn't the right time for a cat. But the desire became to large and my need for constant attention for something that was smaller and cuter than I could ever be was just too much. The search picked up about 3 weeks ago, Amelia and I started planning to go to the shelter in Greensboro and picking our own kitty out.
As it so happened I was at the hairdresser in Burlington and we were chatting away (like old hags do!) and I told her that we were getting a cat. Then she dropped one into my lap. She said that she had a kitten she took in nearly 5 months ago and that she already has two and just couldn't get rid of it. Perfect! A free kitty? Yes Please.
Immediately I said yes, without consulting a certain girlfriend and I tried to get this poor woman's address so that I could pick up that cat within a matter of minutes. (Two things prevented this from happening, the fact that she had to work and the fact that she lived in a one stop light town 45 minutes away.) Thus I agreed to pick up that cat tomorrow.
I called Amelia on the way home were she hit me with a reality brick - did the cat have shots? how old was it? did it have every limb? Was it feral? Was I feral?
I didn't know what feral meant, so like any child that unconsciously wants something I made up answers. "Yes the cat has all it's shots. I'm pretty sure it was voted healthiest cat in North Carolina." These answers didn't go over well at all. Thus I had to call hairdresser lady.
She responded with all of the worst possible answers - no shots, found in the countryside, skinny as hell, possibly feral. Again, I disregarded these things - she lived in a home for 5 months with another cat, how bad can she be. Amelia conceded and the cat was ours.
We bought all the supplies that night, food, a bed, brush, litter, litter box. We were a machine and I was going to be a dad to a 2 pound black cat (like I dreamed of as a little girl!).
The next day we picked up the cat and we put the cat in the new cat taxi (blue) and took her home. In the car she cried and cried and cried until we opened the door to the taxi. She wouldn't come out and but at least stopped crying. She eventually came out 2 minutes before we got home and roamed the car, so 2 minutes later when we put her back in her crate the crying resumed. (Starting to regret this already...)
We let her out as soon as we get in and decide to leave her alone until she is ready to be civil. She darts under the couch and doesn't come out for, what amounts to the rest of the evening. Fast forward 2 weeks.
I am amazed by this kitty, she is no older than 7 or 8 months and is very friendly. After 6 hours of being a recluse (including not eating or pooping) she became Gabby (a name based on Gabe - a name with both Amelia and I like, but would never do for a child of mine - Gabe Fagan = Gay Fag in middle school language). Although I have never owned a cat before I am convinced she is the smartest cat. What follows are several examples of why I love this cat and 1 example of why I do not.
1. This cat opens doors. Obviously cats can contort themselves to wedge open doors that are slightly cracked. This cat can open closed doors. Our closet opens outward and closes magnetically up top. The cat reaches her paw underneath the door and pushes on the inside to pop it open. I nearly peed my pants when this happened for the first time.
2. Cats love to climb (I've heard) and this cat loves to scale the closet. I found her recently on the closet shelf (about 6 feet off the ground) just chilling out. I'm not convinced that she cant jump 6 feet vertically, because there is NO room to run and jump.
3. The cat loves Amelia's hair bands. After a few nights of leaving them (and subsequently losing them) on the nightstand, Amelia put the hairbands in a small jewelry box. The next night the cat had stolen the jewelry box, opened it, and got the hairbands. (I secretly applauded, while Amelia not so secretly seethed.)
However, the cat apparently knows how smart she is and has become the princess that most cats are. She apparently does not sleep and when I wake up at 6 AM for work she is already meowing at me when my feet hit the floor. She then dashes to the food bowl to ask for food. This was fine until last week, when we got her wet food, which is the Filet Mignon of cat food. The cat no longer eats dry food (she is too good for it) and will whine for wet food, even though dry food is in her bowl (someone needs to explain fiscal lesson of how much cheaper dry food is than wet food to this cat.)
Regardless, the cat is a blast to be around. I will not get into the borderline creepy things I like about her (watching her walk, rubbing my face into her stomach and holding her up with one hand to the ceiling like Simba in the Lion King,) instead I will leave you with some pictures of Gabbykins.
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