Cat Daddy

So today I became a Cat Daddy.

A few weeks ago, a little blondie short-hair kitteh walked into the office where my Dad’s wife works. This of course happened shortly after their sweet purrer of a kitteh Anna met an untimely end under the wheels of a speeding automobile. Cats are kind of magic like this. This guy walked into our lives right after we lost one we’d loved and cared after for decades.

So the Farm had its last cat standing, the black-as-night kitteh appropriately named “Blackie.” Then this one walked in and roamed all over the warehouse and wouldn’t sit still for anyone until he walked up to Hick. But their place is more a dog place than a cat place, and the dogs tend to view the felines as toys. And frankly, my folks were kind of looking to retire from the cat-rearing business. So conversations began about old Henry, as she had dubbed him, becoming an apartment dweller.

I’ll be honest, I was inclined to demur. It’s quite a lot to take on, and I’ve been used to a solitary lifestyle for a long, long time. But then I met said kitteh. He’s extremely affectionate. He likes to rub on your legs. He likes to sit next to a person on the sofa and purr. He does NOT like being picked up, or as I think of it, he has a strong sense of bodily autonomy. But there’s a personality to this guy. He’s just lovey.

So it came to today that I found myself driving home from the farm with a meowing, struggling cat in a cat carrier. It’s about a 25-minute drive I’d say, and I was talking to him the whole trip because he did not enjoy being in the box. But the whole time, I told him my concept, that once he arrived at my little one-bedroom apartment, he’d see it as an improvement. That while somewhat short on square-footage, my place, he would be lord of the joint, no bullying dogs, no competing cats, and there would likely be cat trees to climb in his future.

And once I freed him, he seemed pleased to be out of the box. He spent about an hour wandering, rubbing his cheeks on everything. He discovered the windows. He found his litter box (praise be). I eventually got him to eat a little kibble, though I am presenting him with both dry and wet food choices as we go (he came in a bit underweight).

I’m a bit apprehensive about it and have been. I enjoy cats, but being one’s guardian (yes, I watch Jackson Galaxy a lot, but Galaxy’s language is spot-on because, let’s face it, nobody has ever owned a cat) is a lot. Life-changing, really. Not to mention, he’s much more of an energetic kitteh than I had previously thought.

As I write this, he’s watching out the window as if he’s watching American Idol. He’s got a lot in store; a vet visit later in the month, then later a snip-snip and shots.

I reckon this might be fun.

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