When I moved into a studio apartment, I knew I had to get another cat. Otherwise, I would come home and find my super-gregarious already-existing cat, Stud, hanging from a little kitty noose with a note saying, “Because you left me alone all day”.
Couldn’t let that happen.
Because I am very righteous when it comes to pet procurement, I went to the public animal shelter with my friend Jessica. I was very specific about my new cat’s qualifications: male, between 3-5 years old, brown tabby, short hair.
We scanned the cages and I wasn’t satisfied. Who would be? It’s really pathetic and depressing at the public animal shelter.
I was staunchly against kittens. I even said, “I am NOT getting a kitten.” My friend Jessica (who knows that what I say usually doesn’t mean anything) said, “Hey, let’s look in the kitten ward.” I paused. I thought “Didn’t I just tell her I am NOT getting a kitten?” Obviously I had to say it again...this time in all caps.
“If you are so against kittens, then why do you care?”
I stomped past her and pushed open that kitten ward door. Stench. Crying. Claws. Seriously, claws swiped my arm. I looked down and saw the most pathetic thing.
I peered down at a bedraggled feline and wondered what on earth made her feet look like baby Simba’s in The Lion King. Ah, polydactyl. Freak. Loved it!
Female, under 3 months old, black and white tiger, medium hair. Damn it. Too late though; I love freakish things so she was ess-o-ell, mine.
I tried adopting her but she wasn’t quite ready yet (quarantined because she may be infected with rabies or something). I had to come back Wednesday.
When the woman with the lost cat pulled up to the shelter early Wednesday morning, I knew I had to make an ally. It’s first-come, first-served and I wasn’t about to lose my newfound freak to anyone…even the elderly woman who showed up later claiming her daughter had found my freak too, and that she was very lonely and needed a cat.
Before you judge, let’s look at the facts:
1. She hadn’t even SEEN my freak, so her love could never match mine at that point in time.
2. I get it, she was old and alone. Fine, but then she should get an old and alone cat; that would be a good match.
3. Kittens are crazy! It’s like they are perpetually on meth and she didn’t look up to it. Honestly, she was a little slow-moving and pretty mellow.
So, when they asked who was there first, I looked to the lost-cat lady and it was done; she would vouch for me.
I got the cat and named her Beans. She has six toes on each foot and lives a very happy, active life with a young couple (me and my fiancé).