Cat Dance - Beatrice

There have been a lot of cats adopted recently, and it’s nice coming in to Maddie’s and seeing unfamiliar feline faces where the adoptees used to reside.

Right off the bat, a guy comes up with a short list of cats he wants to see. He’s done quite a bit of research on cats in general and ours in particular, and has narrowed his criteria to young adult male black cats. We head to hallway 6 to meet Shogun. As we all get acquainted, the man asks if I think the cats pick their people or people choose the cat. I have no definitive answer – I feel like I’ve witnessed both. (Although I’m quite positive that my Muppy did single me out.)

As we sit with the second cat, pretty, shy and sleek Molto Bene, the guy declares firmly and happily that this is his cat. I direct him to the front to complete the adoption, and he’s pleased with how fast the whole thing is proceeding. In general, I think people should take awhile in making a big decision like this. But the dude seems very much a person who lines up all his facts then acts decisively.

I head over to visit my sweet friend Beatrice, also all black but female, not in contention. That’s ok – her ideal person would be someone who’s home a lot and sitting on the couch. She can’t get enough lap time. She curls up on mine and rolls her head around, seeming to smile, as I pet her. When my attention lapses toward visitors in the hall, she noses my arm politely. Her purr is barely audible, but her pleasure is evident.

I move on and meet a new kitty, Dixie, a shy and petite 8 year old Siamese mix. Her looks are striking and unusual – blue eyes, traces of orange and brown tabby on her face and paws. She’s shy at first, but steps daintily onto my lap as I stroke her soft fur. She curls there, purring and drooling a bit. She deigns to nibble on some kibble from my lap, and I regret having to nudge her aside to end my visit.

Sometimes it’s hard to say who’s leading in the whole dance of cats and their people/people and their cats. There’s you, there’s the cat, and then there’s the bond between you that develops over time, so much more complex than the first joy of meeting each other. With its quirks and complications, just like human to human relationships. Simple at its core but also layered and nuanced. But definitely worth it.

Performance Anxiety - Bonnie

I’ve been watching bits of the Olympics. (For whatever reason, I like the figure skating and snowboard cross.) It’s interesting to see how the stress of the spotlight affects different athletes. Some extremely talented people can choke, while others need the cheer of the crowd to reach their peak.

I think about this dynamic at the shelter. Not that a few people strolling around constitute that level of stress or the animals are jumping through hoops or anything. But they are pretty much on display, and there’s a new home to compete for, even better than a gold medal.

Cautious Bonnie, the pretty 7 year old Russian Blue I met last week, is a nice little cat, and I’m sure she’d make a good pet in a quiet household. She’s less scared than she was, and slinks out of hiding almost as soon as I sit down near her. She purrs, accepts some petting and bravely rubs along my leg and slithers across my lap. But people in the hall send her scurrying to the back of her condo, almost hidden in the shadow, her eyes dilated again.

Three young people want to meet Alexander, the charming 6 year old gray tabby just across the hall. He’s your basic friendly, affectionate and pretty cat, a good find for people without a lot of cat experience. But they’re just looking around, and after we sit with him for a few minutes, they thank me and leave.

I offer some words of encouragement to Bonnie, then go sit with another shy kitty. White Sox is a pretty long hair tabby with a bit of white on his chest and of course white feet. He hops down carefully and sniffs around, then lets me pet him. He hasn’t been eating well, and I encourage him to take a couple bites of food.

A young Australian couple pause outside the door and White Sox freezes, as if he’ll be invisible as long as he stays still. They’re interested in Milo, a gorgeous and outgoing Lynx tabby. But they’ve got three cats at home, while Milo’s probably better as an only cat. I’m not worried about this guy, though – he’s back at his window immediately, wowing everyone that walks past.

Towards the end of my shift an older couple want to check out Ranger Rick. He’s a lovely orange cream tabby, a feisty 9 year old who moves comfortably between us. He purrs as we pet him, and allows himself to be picked up and cuddled. The women tell me they want to adopt an older cat, and they like big friendly orange ones. I’m psyched for Rick, but they add that they’re really just beginning the process and they’re not ready to take anyone home just yet. Still, one in particular seems to bond awfully well with him. As for this kitty, he’s doing everything he needs to do to ensure himself a new home.

Happy Birthday Big Boy - Max, Chewey

We celebrated my boy’s birthday earlier this week. I don’t know the actual date, so I commemorate the anniversary of his coming home (two years ago now!). He got a food treat and a new toy, a clever fake bird that emits chirpy noises when batted. Unfortunately it’s a bit loud for either of our tastes – but he’s not real big on batting stuff either. Anyway, while some might think I go overboard, I come from a family where my mom baked a cake and served tuna casserole on each cat’s birthday.

Over at Maddie’s, I pay special attention to a couple other big guys I’m fond of. Chewey is a massive 10 year old long hair tabby and white dude. Not sure if his name is from Star Wars; I suppose he resembles a Wookie more than anyone else here does. He’s got a comically girlish meow, and a shy but sweet disposition. He meows, rubs, and burrows his face in my hair the way my boy does, leaning heavily against me. His fur is long, soft, luxurious; his tail is thicker than your average kitten. He needs regular brushing – not a problem for this guy, who craves physical attention.

Across the hall, Max is a big sweet 13 year long hair gray tabby with a stubby tail. Both these guys are recommended to be only cats in adult homes. Max is not quite as big, but certainly good sized. He lounges next to me, blinking and purring, as I pet him and admire his pretty striped markings and the curly fur on his belly.

A young couple ask to see Jumbo, a 9 month old all white kitty. I’m guessing he’s on the big side too, but the poor thing is shy and stays mostly hidden while we’re in there. Three people standing near him kind of freak him out, and they’re a bit impatient to wait for him to emerge.

Then a woman who’s specifically looking for a Russian Blue asks for help. We see one who seems to bond nicely with her. She’s just starting out looking though, and wants to check out one over at Animal Care and Control. Not long later, I meet Bonnie, a super shy 7 year old blue. It takes several minutes of silent coaxing before she’ll even come out to let me pet her. She cautiously nibbles some food while I pet her, her ears alert for any strange sounds. The woman is already gone, but hopefully she’ll get a chance to meet her too.

It’s hard to be in a new place like this. There are quite a few people around today, groups wandering the hallways and volunteers both. I remember how my boy tried to hide in his condo when he was here.

Toward the end of my shift, I note several Adoption Pending signs up. Lucky kitties, and lucky people too. Celebrating getting the boy made me think about some of those quirks I now take for granted… how he squeezes onto my lap despite being too big to fit, a hind leg or two still hanging off, his nightly cuddling of my head and his big paw tapping my shoulder in the morning.

I’m wishing a happy homecoming for all today’s new pets and pet companions.

Balance - Raindance

I’m having one of those hurry up and wait weeks. Big annual work event for students and a big donor site visit scheduled a day apart – lots of work but also some waiting based around other peoples’ needs.

I go a day early to Maddie’s, and am not surprised to find fewer potential adopters than recently and a high volunteer to cat ratio. Good news: shy little Tabitha just found a home. But unfortunately pretty tabby and white Puff was returned, not sure why.

My first kitty demands my attention as soon as I enter her hall – Mask is a friendly enthusiastic 13 year old who knows what she wants, and what she wants is some petting here and now. She’s soft and pretty, gray mottled with tan, and while her meows are a bit insistent, soon she sits happily in front of me, nudging her head around my hand and purring. I like a cat who lets you know what she’s thinking.

A woman pauses outside the door, and Mask meets her eye with a squawky meow, clearly pleased at the prospect of more petting. But she moves on, and I soon go next door to pet sweet shy Raindance. She's a young tabby and white long hair girl, a cute combo of shy and affectionate, who's starting to come out of her shell.

A whole talkative group come in, scaring the more skittish kitties back into hiding. A middle aged woman, accompanied by what appear to be several family members, approaches me. She’s specifically looking for a young orange tabby. (I’m a bit skeptical about such particular requests for coloring, but ready to help.)

She points out a brown tabby kitten, a shy "Cherry Blossom," and just the two of us go in. She explains that the cat will be for her son. I’m picturing a rambunctious child, and caution about how shy this cat is, but she clarifies further that the son is 24. She’s kind of scouting out the available cat situation because she’s newly retired and has the spare time, and he's so busy. Also, she’ll be around to help care for the cat, and it’ll be nice to have a companion.

Next we meet Donatol, a lovely 1 year old orange tabby, who’s squirmy and sweet, and certainly fits the stated requirements. The group all seem enthusiastic and promise to return with the busy son in tow.

They leave and I return to the pretty kitty. He seems a little intimidated by the commotion, but quickly slinks out for a bite to eat and some scratching behind the ears.

I sit there thinking about the line we all seem to walk, seeking a balance between busyness – the good kind, moving fast, thinking hard, being in the flow of things – and peaceful relaxation, calm hours to be relished, not bored. It’s easier now that it used to be, but it’s never really that simple.