Out from Under

Saturday, February 6th — A lot of catching up to do from the last post! It all happened pretty quickly after that.

During her first night with us, as I had expected, Hope was out from under my Beloved Spouse’s bed, and roaming the house. I know Chloe saw her, but there were no yowls or hisses (I sleep lightly, I’d know). Once, when I got up in the night, as I returned to bed I saw Hope sitting in the hall at my doorway, just staring at me. I talked to her softly and invited her to come see me, but she just faded away into the darkness.

I should tell you what she looks like, and a little history. She’s very beautiful, nine years old, a “tuxedo-tortoiseshell,” according to Sarah, the pet store manager. In Hope’s case, that means that her tummy, chest, four paws, and a bit of her face are white. The top of her head, her back, and most of her tail are blue-gray. The rest of her — legs, sides of her face, and the underside of her tail — is striped and shadowed with silver, white, charcoal, and a pinky-gray that I can only call “peach”. It’s an unusual coloring, and I’ve never seen a cat that looks like this before. Around her eyes (big and green) there’s a line of charcoal and an outer line of peach. It looks as if she’d spent half an hour on her eye makeup. I wish I could do mine as well.

The history part seems oddly predetermined. Hope lived with a single lady and another female cat  the first six years of her life. Then the lady moved out of the country; so she took Hope and the other cat to her veterinarian and told him to euthanize the cats, since she couldn’t take them with her. (!!) On the morning of the day they were supposed to be put to sleep, Sarah (the pet store manager) stopped by that vet’s office, not her usual vet, to pick up some special cat medicine. She saw the two cats, asked about them, and when she learned they were scheduled for The Injection that afternoon, said she would take them herself. They became “store residents,” along with a couple of other cats who lived there. Beautiful and loving as she was, Hope was never chosen by people who wanted to buy a cat, because she was older. People always want kittens, and there are always kittens being rescued and brought to Sarah. The young cats came and went, but Hope stayed.

I have been frequenting that pet store ever since I started going to Seaside Chiropractic, since it’s on the way home and I can get human-grade cat food there. And I’ve been petting and talking to Hope (and the others) all that time, admiring her, telling Sarah that I wished I could take her home but that our oldest cat, Amy, would never stand for it.

After Amy died, when Robert began moaning about how he needed a two-cat family, he wanted another cat soon… I sent him over to have a look at Hope and a talk with Sarah, and see what he thought. I knew a young cat wouldn’t be right for us. We need a Geezer, to fit in with our Geezer lifestyle and energy level. Chloe’s a Geezer Cat too, and none of the three of us would have the patience to put up with a young cat’s explorations and other shenanigans. When Robert came home with a huge smile on his face, and announced — before he had both feet out of the car — “She’s a PERFECT CHOICE!”, I knew that Hope was meant to live with us. I talked with Sarah about it the next day. She said, “You know, all that time you were watching Hopie — I was watching you, and thinking that you’d be the perfect person to take her home!”

At 11:00 a.m. precisely, on Saturday, January 23rd, Hope capitulated. She just visibly said to herself, “Oh, the hell with all this dodging and hiding under the bed: I’m starving for some love and a good tummy-rub!” And she walked out, gave me a tiny double meow, and started weaving around my legs, purring like crazy. She threw herself onto her back, begging, “Oh please, rub my tummy!” The little thing was just starved for touch, after two days of not letting us pet her.

Ever since then, it’s a done deal. Hope is a lap-cat. She cuddles, she snuggles, she sleeps with me sometimes… she talks! Not as much as Amy did, but there’s good raw material there — she’s a talking cat. There have been a couple of frantic chases through the hall, but both times Chloe has been the Chased and Hope has been the Chaser. Sticking up for herself, not taking any of that yowling and hissing, not intimidated but not threatening, either. It’s going to be fine.

This morning, for the first time, I put her food dishes on the kitchen counter, in the place where Chloe used to eat when Amy had the Prime Cat spot. Now Chloe has that, and Hope will eat in Chloe’s old spot.

I am so glad we are patching up the hole in our family. Never the hole in our hearts where Amy is, though… But Hopie is lovely, and sweet, and it is healing to observe the beginnings of a relationship between her and Chloe.

Thanks for reading — Betsy