Droplets from the Inkwell

Blog Prompt for 27 November 2012

From "Blogging Circle of Friends " :

Who is one person who makes your life better?

I am going to have to go with this gal right here:



That's my cat, Precious. Yeah, some people might say I'm stretching the definition of "person" a bit. Hey, my blog, my rules.

I got Precious back in 2004 (give or take one year). I remember it was the month of March. About three weeks prior to me adopting her, I had to have my sixteen year old cat, Strype, put down. I had already decided I wanted another cat, but was waiting so that I had time to fully mourn Strype. In fact, I hadn't planned on getting a cat the day that I adopted Precious, as I had wanted to wait at least one more week. But that Saturday afternoon, I swear the Norns were conspiring against me -- on Precious's orders, no doubt!

I was driving through town and I knew that I would be passing by the local chapter of the ASPCA. I figured I might as well stop and look at what cats they had and what the adoption process was like, just to give me an idea of what things would be like in another week or two when I was "ready" to adopt.

I had already decided I wanted to adopt from a shelter in order to save a cat that might otherwise spend a tragically short life in such a place. I also decided that I wanted to adopt an adult cat (two years or older), since they were less likely to be adopted than a cute little kitten. But that all changed as I walked into the shelter and their small (20 foot by 20 foot) cat room and started peering in cages. There in a cage in one of the corners stood a beautiful dilute tortoiseshell kitten of seven months. I glanced at her paperwork and saw that her name was Alberta. She looked at me and meowed and I knew she was adorable. But I wasn't willing to admit she was my cat yet. So I continued around the room.

I found a couple cats that were more in line with the age range I was looking at, but I just wasn't drawn to them. They didn't seem to be drawn to me, either. In fact, one of them actually hissed at me. I walked back to Alberta's cage and she stood and walked to the front of her cage to meow at me again. She looked at me with those beautiful eyes and informed me in no uncertain terms that she would be going home with me today. I knew I was beat, so I acquiesced. See? Cosmic conspiracy. Cats have that kind of pull, you know.

I went out front and told them that I was interested in Alberta. One of the women squealed in delight and told me that Alberta had just arrived the day before and had spent most of that day riding around on the woman's shoulders. They suggested I go hold her, so I went back in the room and unlocked her cage. Sure enough, she climbed up on my shoulders and our bond was solidified. I went back out and informed them that I would indeed be taking Alberta home. "Just one thing. Can I please change her name."

"Please do!"

And so at that moment, Alberta became Precious. Yes, it's a Lord of the Ring reference. Let me tell you, some days she lives up to the reputation of that name and the object of pure evil it represents. I love her dearly.

So I went home a week earlier expected with a cat that was a good bit younger than I had planned on. At least the gods let me have a tri-color cat, so some of my original intent was kept intact.

The other part of my plan that was allowed to survive was my plan to rescue a cat. You see, Monday evening, I took Precious to my vet for her first checkup. She had a severe upper respiratory infection, so severe that it took a month and two different antibiotics to cover it up. Also, her first feline leukemia test came back with a false positive. Had she still been at the shelter when the URI was detected or if they ended up testing her for FeLV and getting a false positive, they would have had to put her down to keep either from spreading to the other cats. The fact that she got there on a Friday and I picked her up that Saturday before they did medical checks the following week means that she and I had a perfect window of opportunity to find her, love her, and save her. I'm not kidding about the cosmic conspiracy thing.

The good news is that Precious did eventually get healthy and has been healthy for the eight years plus that I've had her. She's now a sweet and lovable little monster who loves to play and be independent almost as much as she loves to cuddle. Since she's gotten healthy, she doesn't like to be held anymore and she doesn't like to perch on my shoulders either. Though she loves to curl up next to me when I'm on the computer.



And she'll occasionally sit on my chest or side if I'm laying on the couch. Mostly, though, she prefers to cuddle next to me with just her head resting on my arm or thigh.

In return for me saving her life, Precious has kept me sane. When I was in my twenties, I moved out on my own. I didn't do too well, suffered from depression (okay, the relationship from hell didn't help with that), and eventually moved back in with my parents due to health problems. I stayed with my parents until I moved from Pennsylvania to Western New York in 2005. When I moved to New York, I brought Precious with me.

The first time I moved out, I left Strype at my parents' home. He had lived with them and his sister, Bear, for over a decade by that time, and the apartment I moved to (which was only thirty minutes from my parents home) didn't allow me to have pets. In retrospect, that left me much lonelier in my new place than I strictly needed to be, and I think that took its toll.

When I moved to New York, I knew I had to take Precious with me. She was very much my cat and the two of us share a special bond, the kind that let's me actively call her to me 90% of the time and that keeps her within twenty feet of me when we go outside together. So when I moved, I made a point of looking for landlords that would let me have a cat. I found my townhouse, and Precious moved with me. She keeps me company on my loneliest nights. She cheers me up and leaves me feeling loved when I have a bad relationship experience. She makes me laugh when I see her attacking her own tale on the bed less than three feet away from me. If I didn't have her with me, the solitude would drive me crazy.

Okay, crazier.

JarredH

Give me pen and paper and I shall create entire worlds and fill them with adventures.