It’s been seven months since we lost our sweet Emma. Gail has insisted that once the remodel is done, we will bring home new residents. I found myself in no hurry.
But with the remodel showing no signs of ending, Gail’s patience had waned. When our friend Brooke mentioned on Tuesday that All The Best Pet Care on Lake City Way had two sisters up for adoption, Gail got it in her head that these were the cats destined to share our house with us.
Gail called first thing Wednesday morning, thinking that even though it was New Year’s Day, someone had to be there to feed the cats. Actually, one of the store staff—Jen—had been their foster mother for two months, taking them home each night. Thursday Gail called again, confirming that the girls were still available. She and Jessica showed up in the afternoon.
Friday, once I was done at work, we all (Gail, Jessica, Joel, and I) met there and spent 45 minutes with the cats in a special quiet room. They are 7 1/2 months old. Jen had named them Ruby and Rose. Until she came in to join us, they spent most of their time heading to the corners, but her presence calmed them. She told us that just a few days earlier, in discussing with Janice (the woman in charge of adoptions for the organization that had placed the cats with the store) what kind of family the cats needed, she posited that a professor would be a good match. And here I was, a professor. Providential for sure.
Yesterday morning, Janice called the house and interviewed Gail for half an hour. The key issues were, don’t declaw the cats, don’t let them outside, feed them wet food. Once we got past that, the question of how to manage the transition arose, the woman insisting that the cats be kept in a small enclosed space, preferably a bathroom, to start their adjustment. We agreed. A few hours later, we were at the store, ready to complete the adoption.
Food, litter, litter box, scoop, toys, treats. What else? Scratching board. A free throw-in: the bed they had been sleeping in. But the adoption fee had to be paid by cash or check. Oops. No one had mentioned that. We paid for the supplies, drove to an ATM, returned with cash, took the cats to the car, picked up a takeout dinner, and headed home.
Gail put the cats in the assigned bathroom. I brought our dinner in, she set up their dinner and litter. We ate, checked in on them, and found that they had eaten in parallel, devouring all their food. That was 26 hours ago. There’s little to report since then.
I can’t help thinking they’d prefer run of the house. There’s not much they can do in the bathroom. One of them made quick work of one of the toys, a stick with dangling feathers, tearing all the feathers off in short order. This morning, when Gail went in to spend time with them, they headed for the farthest corner, behind the toilet.
This afternoon, my futile attempt to provide company drove them into the litter box.
Better days await. If only our co-occupants shared our confidence in that.