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beandelphiki...So, for a very long time, I've been resisting my parent's suggestion that we get another cat to keep our ginger tabby, Tiger, company.
I insisted that my reason for not wanting another cat was that it's Tiger's home. She shouldn't have to share and defend it. It's HERS. When we had to cat-sit another cat named Casper once, I'm not sure who was more upset, me or her.
Actually, I know it was me. She whupped his ass occasionally, and mostly ignored him. It was me crouched at the top of the stairs, baring my fangs and growling.
So, if I was TOTALLY honest, it's not Tiger I've really been thinking about when I said I don't want another cat. I don't want another cat in MY territory, MY domain. I grew up with Tiger; I was a wee thing when we got her skinny butt from the pound. She is some sort of feline mother to me, and child, too, that is mine to protect. We have a bond.
But I am an adult now, and this...IS...MY...TERRITORY!!!!!
RAWR!
But. *sheepish look*
Today at the pet store, we found a cat.
We were there to pick up some food for Tiger, but they were out. Huh, no biggie - she can live off her fat for a few days. :P (Obviously, that butt is skinny no longer.) So we stopped at the end of the store where they display the animals they have on sale. Tons of fish, birds, gerbils, yada. And in the glass enclosures at the back, the kittens and puppies.
They aren't the pound, so they have all those signs up announcing that they only use reputable breeders, etc, and they tend to only carry breeds like Siamese, Persian, and Himalayan. The more expensive, higher-maintenance, and higher-strung breeds. (That's just the cats, of course. I wouldn't know a dog's tail from it's front end.) The cats are EVER so cute, but one time we looked at a Persian kitty to take home, and he was several hundred dollars. So we know now those animals are JUST for looking at.
I was busy watching three Siamese kittens attempt to attack their smooth plastic "houses" (socute, socute!) when my sister started yelling for me. Over in a corner, they had a plastic barred kennel, not the kind of thing you see in that store. It was obviously temporary. Inside, there was just the cutest cat, greyish-black with lots of interestingly patterned white markings. He was meowling away frantically.
The sign on his kennel said that he had been picked up from the Humane Society just before he was about to be put down; that he is two years old; that he had been rescued from an abusive owner and nursed back to health; that he is VERY friendly, and has come away from his abuse quite a happy, stable cat; that he desperately needs an owner; and that his name is Lester.
As soon as he saw me, he starting climbing the walls of the kennel to get my attention. So the pet store clerk opened up the cage and he launched himself out at me.
Naturally, my mother, my sister and I all fell in love.
This cat is desperate - desperate - for love. He has the biggest eyes ever, and his face seems smaller than it is, because his previous owner cruelly cut his whiskers off. He's very delicate. And he squirms like crazy because he can't wait in one person's arms until he can jump to the next one.
We were all in agreement that he likes me best, but that was no surprise for anyone. :D
The pet store clerk told us they don't hold animals for more than an hour, but that NO ONE else has asked about him. (Not good enough a breed, I guess. Or too old.) Grr. But this means he's probably ours. She said she'll call us first if anyone makes an offer before we show up tomorrow, because no one's been this interested in Lester before.
Now we just have to convince my dad. Cross your fingers for me!
I insisted that my reason for not wanting another cat was that it's Tiger's home. She shouldn't have to share and defend it. It's HERS. When we had to cat-sit another cat named Casper once, I'm not sure who was more upset, me or her.
Actually, I know it was me. She whupped his ass occasionally, and mostly ignored him. It was me crouched at the top of the stairs, baring my fangs and growling.
So, if I was TOTALLY honest, it's not Tiger I've really been thinking about when I said I don't want another cat. I don't want another cat in MY territory, MY domain. I grew up with Tiger; I was a wee thing when we got her skinny butt from the pound. She is some sort of feline mother to me, and child, too, that is mine to protect. We have a bond.
But I am an adult now, and this...IS...MY...TERRITORY!!!!!
RAWR!
But. *sheepish look*
Today at the pet store, we found a cat.
We were there to pick up some food for Tiger, but they were out. Huh, no biggie - she can live off her fat for a few days. :P (Obviously, that butt is skinny no longer.) So we stopped at the end of the store where they display the animals they have on sale. Tons of fish, birds, gerbils, yada. And in the glass enclosures at the back, the kittens and puppies.
They aren't the pound, so they have all those signs up announcing that they only use reputable breeders, etc, and they tend to only carry breeds like Siamese, Persian, and Himalayan. The more expensive, higher-maintenance, and higher-strung breeds. (That's just the cats, of course. I wouldn't know a dog's tail from it's front end.) The cats are EVER so cute, but one time we looked at a Persian kitty to take home, and he was several hundred dollars. So we know now those animals are JUST for looking at.
I was busy watching three Siamese kittens attempt to attack their smooth plastic "houses" (socute, socute!) when my sister started yelling for me. Over in a corner, they had a plastic barred kennel, not the kind of thing you see in that store. It was obviously temporary. Inside, there was just the cutest cat, greyish-black with lots of interestingly patterned white markings. He was meowling away frantically.
The sign on his kennel said that he had been picked up from the Humane Society just before he was about to be put down; that he is two years old; that he had been rescued from an abusive owner and nursed back to health; that he is VERY friendly, and has come away from his abuse quite a happy, stable cat; that he desperately needs an owner; and that his name is Lester.
As soon as he saw me, he starting climbing the walls of the kennel to get my attention. So the pet store clerk opened up the cage and he launched himself out at me.
Naturally, my mother, my sister and I all fell in love.
This cat is desperate - desperate - for love. He has the biggest eyes ever, and his face seems smaller than it is, because his previous owner cruelly cut his whiskers off. He's very delicate. And he squirms like crazy because he can't wait in one person's arms until he can jump to the next one.
We were all in agreement that he likes me best, but that was no surprise for anyone. :D
The pet store clerk told us they don't hold animals for more than an hour, but that NO ONE else has asked about him. (Not good enough a breed, I guess. Or too old.) Grr. But this means he's probably ours. She said she'll call us first if anyone makes an offer before we show up tomorrow, because no one's been this interested in Lester before.
Now we just have to convince my dad. Cross your fingers for me!
