Lonely Boys - Pickle Chips

A surprisingly large number of visitors have ventured out into the rain to go cat window shopping. Fortunately there are plenty of volunteers on hand too.

I talk to a young woman who wants to adopt her first cat, but has a roommate with a shy former feral. We check out frisky and flirtatious Foxtrot. He behaves just fine – but in this situation, the resident cat is the one who may have issues. The woman decides to keep looking.

My visit with new favorite Pickle Chips is interrupted by a group of oversized teens who ask to "say goodbye" to 7 month old tabby Bridget across the hall. They’ve got the vibe of some sort of at-risk youth group, sticking together and closely monitored by a pair of not much older women.

I wonder about six of us crowding in with little Bridget, but she does well, not only accepting several hands petting her but voluntarily climbing up onto first one than another set of shoulders. She nuzzles one boy’s neck and cheek, and it’s just adorable. They crowd around, gentle and respectful, till the one boy gruffly says they should leave. He denies being ready to cry, though no one has accused him. The supervisor assures the kids that she’ll find a good home, pointing out that the sister she was housed with has already been adopted.

Another kid tells me apologetically that they’re not allowed to have a cat. Not at this point in your life, I think. But maybe in a decade or so – and this sort of sweet bonding experience is an investment in that future.

Back to Pickle Chips, who’s just darling. He’s a big 4 year old tabby and white fellow with a precious round face, cute meow, and please-pet-me look in his eye. His paperwork says he’s declawed (too bad, but he seems ok with it) and that he has made friends with a cat named Puzzle at the shelter, but they don’t have to go together. But Puzzle’s already gone – I saw his paperwork earlier.

Mr. Pickle rubs around, purring and staring up wide eyed, then leans into my with his head tucked under my chin. Passersby in the hall point and coo. Then he slumps down and curls in my lap, an eye toward the squirrels prancing around on his TV.

Two other lonely cats along the corridor perch at their windows, watching the action in the hall and each other. Hang on guys, your time’s coming.