Since the loss of Indy several weeks back, the $64,000 question has been when we’d get a new cat. Unlike the other kitties we’ve lost, something about Indy was particularly difficult for us to process or discuss, so considering a replacement just didn’t come up in discussion.
(This is also the first time our family has been cat-less in Katherine’s lifetime, and, in fact, since Mist joined us from SoCal after we were in the house in ’95. So there was also a sort of sudden change that made the whole thing more difficult and more odd.)
Then three things happened in the last 24 hours:
- We’ve been doing little memorial stones for our various cats over the years, as sort of an official closure. They’re over in the side yard, under the big lilac there. The one I ordered for Indy arrived yesterday.
- I had a real urge to suggest something about a new cat to Margie last night. But, for whatever reason, I didn’t.
- This morning Margie mentioned that when Katherine was filling the bird feeder, she complained about how the bird seed container was under the cat food container. When Margie suggested we could swap that around, Katherine opined that would be sad.
So all of those merged together to lead to a discussion between Margie and me this morning about getting a new cat. And so, after we went to Kaylee’s birthday party (Happy Birthday, Kaylee!), we headed to the Denver Dumb Friends League, the local shelter we support (and have used before).
We knew we wanted a female, spayed, preferably short-hair, thus forestalling marking, pregnancy, and hair all over the furniture.
We toured around, and there were a lot of cats there, more than in the past. Saw lots of cute kittens, lots of other cats, and filled out a little “we’d like to see this cat more up-close” form, finally coming up with four cats.
Yeah …
The first cat we saw was a medium-haired blue cream domestic, about 6 years old, named Kunoichi. She was a bit skittish and shy, but was soon coming over to us in the little visitor’s room and asking for brief pets. She was lovely, and we all fell in love with her.
We should have stopped right there.
The next cat was one Katherine had spotted, a 4-month-old kitten named Pebbles — black short-hair with white paws and chin. She was darling, a tiny thing constantly wanting to climb on shoulders or chests to rub against your face and be petted.
So there was really no need to look at the other cats, and that raised a big question: which one to choose.
Kunoichi was the obvious practical choice. Pebbles is still young, has the typical shelter upper respiratory tract infection, meaning she needs to be medicated and that she hadn’t been spayed yet. And Pebbles would not be safe to be out for several months more.
Of course we were discussing this while we had Pebbles in the room with us, taking turns climbing on each of us and rubbing and purring and the whole nine yards.
And, of course, the obvious thought came to both Margie and me — Do we really need to choose? Why not bring both home?
Which is even less practical, and a big deal and all that. And, of course, once the suggestion was made …
So, off to the races, and we got a variety of good deals for buying a kitten and getting a super-sizing discount on another cat, etc.
So here’s part of the logistical problem. We have traditionally put the litter box out in the garage, with a cat door from the house to there. Problem being, we don’t want Kunoichi going out just yet — and, once Pebbles (renamed) gets free rein of the house, we don’t want her going outside at all until she’s much older. And, garage being where cars come in and out of, having the garage open to the outside (esp. at 5:30 a.m. when I leave and really can’t afford to go chasing after a cat) is not a good idea.
And, of course, short-term we need to keep Pebbles apart from Kunoichi, and entertained and loved in quarantine. And Kunoichi needs to figure out the rhythm of the household, and what loud noises are not threats and how to communicate in some way other than insistent squawking. And why, of course, we ended up with two new cats.
UPDATES: I’ve had this post 90% complete for the last 12 hours. Since I began …
- Kay is doing a great job with Pebbles, spending time with her.
- We still haven’t come up with a good name for Pebbles. “Smudge” (which is what she does to classes, plus refers to the dark spot on her white chin) was leading for a bit, but “Neko” seems to be taking the lead.
- Mary and Stan were able to stop by for dinner (and boxes) on their way home from Pike’s Peak, so they got to spend a lot of time with Kunoichi.
- Last night went okay, except for a brief moment when Kunoichi decided to play in the cardboard boxes in the hallway. Aside from that, she jumped up onto the bed and slept with us without any sort of disturbance.
Kunoichi is a very cute kitty and seems to really lover being with her people. Very soft with a little squeek of a meow.
Congratulations! Beautiful animals in a great new home!
I’ll argue that keeping them both completely indoors isn’t a bad option (ours go out on the occasional leash), but won’t preach.
Seems like an anime name theme going on here!
I’m guessing that it is glasses, and not classes, that she smudges, which, so far, neither of our dogs have done to us.
Speaking of same, I think I mentioned that Edna & I had only started our screening of shelters & such when we found our two. We thought we were only starting a search, but the guys decided our “bonded pair” selection would be great. I reminded Kurt of the double cost issues, as in vets, but having not dealt with canine vet bills any time in the recent past, he really had no idea how much yearly tests and vaccines would be, much less ill-dog visits.
I wanted a cat, too, but Kurt said his allergies were too bad for that. Hmph. Well, I’m told poodles (ours are bichon/poodle mixes) are the cats of the dog world, and Maine Coons are the dogs of the cat world. The elder of ours is never happy unless he’s against or on a human, and they both would rather sleep by/with a human instead of on their own. They were in heaven when I was confined to the mushroom bed for two months, because I was in bed all day! They didn’t want to leave except to eat–they could get out on the downstairs patio for Other Needs.
Last night Cody, the younger, who generally spends nights next to me, had his head up on one of the small pillows in the middle pillow area, sleeping on his side, just like the two humans flanking him.
Must be nice to have a cat sniggling against you again. Not Indy, but another bundle of love who’ll bring more of that to your life.
Forgot one thing, re: Neko as a name. When we moved into the home in Clairemont Mesa that is now being sold, much to my sister’s sadness, we got a domestic short grey hair my mom named Talou, which is apparently Japanese for Kitty, as in Here, Kitty.
The Siamese pair that came next were originally Huntley and Brinkley, but they were named Am and Si by my sister and I, as we had always enjoyed the movie Lady & The Tramp.
Kunoichi has been pretty good up on our bed, not demanding at all, and generally just content to sleep up there with us.
I look forward to Neko being able to be freed from her room, once her kitty sniffles are under control.
Another vote for indoor-only cats. We lost our last cat to old age (she was euthanized when her internal systems started to shut down) at 19. The two cats we have now are properly scared of the outdoors (they hesitantly go out on leashes, but are terrified by passing cars) and are happy indoor kitties. Indoor-only cats are happiest in pairs or groups, but you’ve taken care of that by adopting two cats.
Oh, and do find a bathroom for that litter box. Would YOU like to go out to the garage to pee in the middle of the night, especially in the winter???
Unfortunately, no good bathrooms available for the litter box. Actually considered the downstairs bathroom in the current cat configuration, but it simply wasn’t large enough.
Even in winter, our garage doesn’t get that cold (since the master bedroom sits atop it).
Mithril was an indoor-outdoor cat until she got too deaf to hear other cats about to pounce on her. She was 18 at the time, I think, and lived until a month or so past 20. She would have lived longer (she said darkly) if the blasted idiot, who was supposed to be taking care of her while we were gone, had followed instructions about flea bombing if she saw any fleas. She said she hadn’t noticed any biting her, so she hadn’t bombed or otherwise monitored fleas–but Mithril was covered in them to the point where she had 1/3 the blood cells she should have had. She was euthanized the next day–too old to benefit from an expensive transfusion, had some kitty blood been available in her type.