Story of a cat - Part One

Remember how I mentioned in my thanksgiving entry that I got a cat?

Well, I guess it's time to explain a little further.

First, we need to go back two weeks, to a Saturday afternoon that was sunny and warm and perfect for strolling outdoors. My initial plan was to just wander around and get some lunch, but then I decided that since it was in walking distance, and since I had time on my hands before my big live band karaoke early birthday bash, I might as well head over to the Animal Care League and start gathering info about adopting a cat. (BTW, this cat thing has been on my mind for about two months, after I came THIS close to taking in a stray found by a friend. That incident seemed to trigger a flurry of signs I should be bringing a furry friend into my life.)

I made my way to the ACL, signed in, and was led into the main room, which had two walls lined with cages. Most of the inmates were asleep, so I took a stroll around and then popped into the three adjoining rooms meant for kittens and the cats who could not handle the overwhelming experience of being in the big room. In one of the little rooms, I made fast friends with a female calico named Quimby who jumped into my lap when I sat down and started smothering me with kisses and nipped at my wrists and tried snuggling in my arms. There was something a little desperate about her plea for attention, but it was endearing and I wondered if maybe I had already found the kitty I was looking for. I set her down and found one of the volunteers, but I learned that she had some behavior problems, and could only go to someone who was an experienced cat owner. I was disappointed, but the volunteer offered to take me back in the big room and tell me a little about that cats that might make a better match.

One of the guys she introduced me to was a long-haired, all-black cat who went by the name of Felix. He had caught my eye during my initial scan of the room, but I left him alone because he seemed indifferent when I approached his cage.

"Felix is a really nice cat," the woman explained. "The thing is, he's extremely shy." She opened the cage, allowing me to reach in and pet him while he lay in his bed on the second floor of his kitty habitat. I was cautious, so as not to scare him, and let him sniff my open palm so he'd know I meant him no harm. From there, I started stroking the top of my head and much to my surprise he started head-butting my palm.

The woman smiled. "Oh, he doesn't do that for many people. It means he likes you."

I kept petting him and I think I heard him purr a little. After about fifteen minutes he stood up, looked around tentatively, and hopped down to the lower level of his habitat, allowing me closer access. The woman seemed to think that this was good progress, and at this point Felix's neighbor, an older, multi-colored female cat named Sahara woke up and started agitating to be released.

The woman opened her cage door, and she immediately strode along the shelf that ran in front of the cages, sauntering directly into Felix's space.

"I wonder if we have a love connection," the volunteer lady said. Sahara and Felix stood nose to nose for about thirty seconds, but then Felix's eyes got all wide, and he backed off, as if he was thinking, "Oh noes, there's a girl in my room! I don't know what to do!"

This reaction endeared him to me even more, and I made the decision right then and there that this shy, insecure kitty, who had been overlooked and ignored for months thanks to his introverted nature, was perfect for me. (At that point he had been a resident at the ACL since right before his second birthday....he was initially adopted from that same shelter at nine months, spent a little over a year with a family, and then they returned him right before his second birthday because they were moving and couldn't take him with.) I told the volunteer that I wanted him, but that I would have to come back the following week because I had arrived on foot and didn't have any way to get him home. She informed me that I couldn't reserve him for that long, but considering how long he'd been there already, the chances of him being snatched up by someone else before I returned were very slim. I thanked her for her time and said bye to my soon-to-be kitty, telling him that I would return for him the following Saturday. As I walked home, I thought about the name Felix, remembering that there's a minor character on Veronica Mars who shares this name. This, in turn made me think of that character's friend Weevil, who is one of the main players on the show and also someone Veronica turns to for assistance from time to time. It hit me that the name Weevil would be perfect for an all-black cat, and would also allow me to be a geeky fangirl and pay tribute to one of my favorite characters on one of my favorite shows, and so I decided then and there that Felix was going to undergo a name change when he came into my possession.

Unfortunately I have to leave off there....my mom is coming by to take me out for a belated birthday lunch in about ten minutes. Stay tuned for part two if you're interested!

Story of a cat - Part Two

Okay, I'm back to pick up where I left off in my previous entry. We'll need to go back to last Saturday, November 21. In the week between my meeting Felix/Weevil and the aforementioned date, I arranged for my good pal Steph, a fellow animal lover/kitty mommy, to give me a ride to the pet supply shop and to the ACL to pick up my new friend. Together with her and her brother, we headed off to PetCo for all the essential supplies. I spent a small fortune on litter, a bag of food, a litter box, a scratching post, a bed, a carrier, some toys and some grooming tools, but that was fine because I was able to use the extra money I earned from a really sweet freelance gig to pay for it, and because I wanted to make sure Felix/Weevil did not want for anything.

We followed this shopping excursion with a quick lunch at Pompeii, and then it was time for the main event.

The volunteer from the previous week was on duty again when we arrived, and she remembered that I was returning to pick up my kitty. She let me visit with him briefly, and then we set about all the paperwork and payment and stuff. The process was very painless, and Steph and her brother were able to visit with the other inmates while I got all of that sorted. An hour or so later, I was signing my adoption contract, picking out a collar (I chose a blue one with a small silver bell) and a donated, crocheted blanket to line his carrier.

Then it was back to the big room to make everything official. Felix/Weevil did not take it well when he learned I was taking him from the place he had come to recognize at home. He resisted another volunteer's attempt to affix the collar around his neck, and had to be cornered in his cage in order to get it on. When she finished, he hopped to the floor and made a break for it, running a full lap around the big room and then leaping up into the cat tree that was between the two walls of cages in an attempt to allude capture. The volunteer reached up and grabbed him, and thanks to the carrier I bought having a panel on the top as well as the side, we were able to get him contained without too much struggle. Poor guy cried about his state of confinement though, and the sound of his anguished meows really broke my heart. I tried talking softly to him, reassuring him that he wouldn't be captive for very long and he was quiet by the time we were in the car. The ride home only took about ten minutes, and I brought him inside and got Steph and her brother to help me with unloading and setting up the stuff we bought. We filled his litter box, poured a dish of food and water, and then unzipped the front of the carrier, waiting to see what would happen. Weevil, the cat formerly known as Felix, crept out of the bag carefully, looked around and promptly sought comfort and shelter behind my couch. Steph and her brother left soon after so he and I could be alone, and so began my first experience as a cat mommy.

I've now had Weevil in my house for little over a week, and while I'm really happy to have him, I have to admit that the getting-to-know you process has been a little stressful and crazy-making.

He refused to emerge from his couch sanctuary that whole Saturday and the Sunday following, forcing me to lay on my stomach and peer at him from a distance whenever I wanted to check up on him. I talked to him, played him music, watched TV with him, tried bribing him with a trail of treats, but he would only venture out when I was asleep or out of the house. I could tell he was using the litter box, and eating a little bit, so I decided to try to be patient and give him a few days to adjust to his new surroundings.

When I woke up on Monday morning, I found that he had polished off the trail of treats, and was no longer under the couch, which at first, made me overjoyed. But then I couldn't find him anywhere....I looked in the cabinets, in his litter box, and the other places where someone of his size and stature could possibly hide. Ten minutes of fruitless searching sent me into a panic, so I checked under the couch once more and noticed that there was a sizable bulge in the fabric that runs along the underside of the frame. Crafty Weevil had taken advantage of a tear in said fabric, and was using it as a hiding space/hammock. I had to leave for work at that point, so I threw down a few more treats and left, hoping that he would relax by the time I came home that evening.

He was still in there when I returned, and remained in there the following day as well, until Steph came over for our writing group and we cut the fabric open enough to reach him while also leaving a little bit for him to perch on. We used some food pellets to lure him back to the ground, and when he crawled out to eat them we moved the couch enough to expose him for petting. I felt bad about startling him in this way, but it at least allowed me to touch him and it caused him to make a break for his litter box, which seems to be his other "safe" place in my bathroom. At that point we decided that maybe I should get him used to the house one room at a time, starting with the bathroom since it was the smallest, warmest place in the house. We set him up with food and water and bedding and toys, and that's where he stayed the rest of Tuesday and all of Wednesday. I sat in there with him, where I talked to him a lot and petted him as much as he'd allow, but mostly he just stared at me as if he'd rather be alone.

Thursday, Thanksgiving night, that's exactly what I was doing, when Weevil made a breakthrough and crept out of his litter box with me sitting right there. I noticed that he would flinch any time I made an attempt to touch him or pick him up outside the litter box, so I put my hands up and let him know that he was free to explore as much as he wished. I left him to his own devices all Thursday night, reassured by the jingling bell on his collar that he was alive and poking around in my bedroom. At one point I even went in there to check on him and found him sitting in the wheeley chair that goes with my writing desk, seemingly more relaxed than he'd been since his arrival. I took this as a good sign, and managed to snap these pics without using a flash since it might startle him.






After that I left him alone again, and thought his whole hiding silliness was over and done with. I gave him full run of the house when I went to bed that night, and woke up Friday morning expecting that I could finally have a friendly encounter with my pet.

I was wrong, of course.

I got up and he was nowhere to be found, not even in his secret perch within the couch. I was about the check the kitchen cabinets when I noticed that the loose baseboard to the right of my stove had been knocked aside.

Weevil had found a new hiding place. This time he was in an unreachable spot behind the water heater concealed beneath my kitchen counter. I talked to him for about half an hour, getting nothing in response and for the first time since Weevil's adoption feeling short-tempered, frustrated, and out of patience. I told Weevil all of this in a very calm town and laid out a bit of tuna that I hoped would lure him out. Then, knowing that he was more likely to come out if he was alone, and knowing that I was starving and crabby and needed to print my pages for that night's Tamale Hut reading, I headed out for lunch and a trip to my office, figuring I could print stuff and maybe get a little work done and allow myself some time to cool off. I stopped at home before my walk to the Tamale Hut a few hours later, and I was delighted to find Weevil was back in his litter box in the bathroom, so I promptly shut him up in there again with his food and his water and his bedding, telling him that it was only temporary, only until I could get help nailing the loose board into place. When I got home that night, I relocated him, litter box and all, along with everything else into my bedroom where I thought he could roam more freely without getting into any troublesome hiding spots. He woke me a couple times throughout the night with mournful meows, and it made me sad that a week's worth of my company did nothing to make him feel at ease.

Yesterday I went to the hardware store and bought some nails and a hammer. I also got cabinet locks in case Weevil the ninja decided to make that his next hiding spot. My friend Rob and his brother Chris came by that evening to help me fix the board and install the cabinet locks, and we even secured the bathroom cabinets just to be on the safe side. I left Weevil in my bedroom while we went to wrestling, but opened the door when I got home that night, thinking that he might like to explore the house while I slept.

He was back under and in the couch this morning, which I grudgingly accepted, since I was going to be out having lunch with my mom and my niece. What was a little irksome though, was the fact that he had somehow managed to slip off his collar which means I can no longer track his movements by sound! I decided I'd get him back in the bedroom when I returned, and take Rob's advice to keep him in there until he was used to me.

But lo and behold, I got home with my mom and niece in tow (they were hoping to catch a glimpse of the illusive kitty) and again Weevil was nowhere to be found. I really panicked this time because there was nowhere left for him to hole up, and after about 10 minutes of searching, Mom located him hiding in what was kind of plain sight. He was on my kitchen counter, crouched behind my small boom box, and a plastic cupcake carrier that's rather large. I simply didn't think to look there, since he had remained low to the ground up until this point. But I was relieved that he was now hiding somewhere that I could pet him easily, and he didn't resist my advances.

After my mom and niece left, I was able to snap this picture as well, which I think is the best one I've gotten so far:



I left him there to start writing this blog, and put on Sunday at Devil Dirt, which he seemed to like thanks to Mark Lanegan's pleasing baritone.

I checked up on him about halfway through this writing, and found he had moved to the opposite counter, nestled in the corner behind my knife set. The knives are securely wedged in a heavy wooden base, and I don't think they can be dislodged, but still, Weevil being so close to them made me nervous. I picked him up for the first time ever, and returned him to my bedroom. Before I let him out again, I wanted to ask for thoughts from current and former pet owners who read this....Should I shove the knife block in a Weevil-proofed cabinet, or is it safe to keep them on the counter? Any advice is much appreciated.

Anyway, that pretty much brings you up to speed on my first venture into pet ownership. I promise I won't go on ad nauseum about my new friend like this all the time, but I wanted to document the first week of love and stress and emotional exhaustion. I have never -- and I mean never -- tried so hard to win the affection of another living being in my life! I can only hope that my efforts will bring rewards in the next few weeks....