Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Happy Adoption Day, Sothy!

I've told the story of Barley's adoption, but since today is the 4-year anniversary of Soth's adoption, it seems like an appropriate day to tell his story.

I've mentioned in the past that I convinced the landlord at my "no pets" apartment in NM that I absolutely needed a cat.  I wrote him a pathetic letter about how all of my friends were moving and it would be really nice to have a cat to keep me company and cats are small enough and quiet enough that one wouldn't bother the neighbors.  My landlord, who apparently was not a cat person either, came by one day and said, "You want a cat?" and I said yes.  Then he said, "Will it need to go outside sometimes?"  I said, "No.  They can just use the litter box."  His response?  "What unique little creatures."  Then he had his daughter, who ran the front desk at the funeral home below my apartment, type up a letter to take to the shelters stating I had permission.

Since I'm not a cat person, I decided it was okay to be picky about the cat I brought home.  I couldn't just bring home any cat.  It needed to be the perfect cat. 

First, I went to local shelter in my small town.  They had a small room with a handful of cats.  There was a huge orange cat, and I do love orange cats, but he had been an outdoor cat before coming to the shelter and they said he would like a home where he could go outside; that wasn't going to work for me.  They tried to get me to take a fluffy brown cat because she was depressed and needed a good home.  I absolutely did not want a depressed cat.

Then I went to PetSmart to see what shelter cats they had.  I knew they'd have a small selection, but I figured that if my cat wasn't there I could go to the main shelter down the road.

I walked towards the cat room and before I even got all the way there, my eyes locked on a little white cat with bright pink nose and bright pink ears.  I was in love.  I went straight to his kennel.
The first picture I ever took of Soth.
He sat and purred while I pet him through the cage.  Then another cat--a big brown cat named Chico--started pounding on the cage door to get attention.  The sweet little white cat sat patiently and waited his turn while other the other cats mewed for attention.  I didn't want a cat that was going to demand constant attention, so I knew Chico was not the cat for me.

The PetSmart manager let me take the sweet little white cat, whose name was Lumiere, out of the cage and play with him in the cat room.  We played with a feather wand.  He loved it.  He curled up in my lap.  I knew he was mine.  I filled out the application and played with the sweet boy until they could call my landlord and make sure the letter was real.  A shelter volunteer came by and said, "Oh, he's the sweetest little boy. He'll curl up in your lap all day long."

Then I went crazy picking out new toys and cat accessories so I was ready to take him home.  From that moment, I was officially a crazy cat lady.  I'm only crazy about my cat, but I can admit that I'm crazy about him.

Sweet boy loves the sun.

My grandma used to tell me that cats were easy pets.  Sweet Sothlice Lumiere has not been the easy pet I thought I was getting, nor has he been the snuggly lap pet the shelter volunteer told me I was getting, but I wouldn't trade him for any other cat in the world.  He is funny and weird and makes faces that resemble a little old man.

So, happy adoption day, baby boy!  I love you more than rainbows!

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