Hey, I have a pussy! To the surprise of all who know me, including me, I adopted a cat on October 30. I waited until I had pictures to post about it. The cat is three, male, and has white fur and blue eyes. I've named him Trilby. You can see pictures of him here and here.→[More:]

I've never liked cats (it's my firm belief that, if the DSM applied to cats, they'd pretty much all qualify as sociopaths). It was a dog I wanted, but eventually I resigned myself to the fact that a dog isn't practical for me.

I wanted a pet for companionship. And I am just so fed up with the mouse situation at Swan's End. I've trapped about 40 mice in the past 2.5 years. So... a cat it was.

The Humane Society was an interesting experience. One woman looking to adopt told me the new cat would be her fifth. Another told me she was getting a new pet after an interval of mourning for her two previous pets, which she'd spent $5K and $6K respectively trying to save.

I went to the shelter on October 23 but was told I couldn't adopt due to not having photo i.d. with me that day. I went back again a week later, armed with i.d. and a newly purchased cat carrier.

The shelter doesn't let people even look at the animals until the potential adopter has filled out an adoption contract. Okay, so I filled out the form again.

The previous week I'd picked out four possible cats, but three were gone and the fourth was available to "experienced cat owners only". So it was back to the drawing board. There were lots of cats to choose from. I had a look at them all, and passed on, among others, the cats with feline leukemia and a 35-pounder named Tinkerbell.

I picked out two I wanted to consider: Pandora, a buff-coloured female with green eyes, and Hector, a white male with blue eyes. The staff names the cats, and occasionally the names are really inspired. I loved the name "Pandora", and another that gave me the giggles was "Azrael", which was the name of Gargomel's cat on The Smurfs.

So then I was interviewed as to my suitability for adopting a cat and those respective cats' suitability for me. That form they have you fill out is quite something. You have to agree that the Humane Society has the right to enter and inspect your home, though it would seem they don't routinely do that. You are not allowed to ever give the animal to anyone else. You have to agree to stay on the Humane Society email list. You must agree to spay or neuter the animal if it is not already fixed. You must promise that you will never declaw the cat.

And then there are trick questions on the form. One questions asks why you want to adopt a cat, and gives a list of possible reasons. I checked off "mouser" and "pet and companionship". Apparently the "mouser" answer is wrong. I was told if I had only checked off mouser, I would not have gotten a cat from the Humane Society. As it was I got a stern lecture on how I mustn't expect the cat to be a mouser.

In answer to the question about disciplining the cat, I had mentioned using a spray bottle of water. No, I mustn't do that. It would make the cat afraid of water and besides "some people think it is cruel".

The Humane Society doesn't allow the potential adopters to touch the cats. I asked the employee, who was allowed to touch the cats, to come visit the two possible animals with me and pet them so I could see how they responded.

So we visited Pandora and Hector. Pandora was very friendly and rubbed herself up against the THS employee's hand, purring. Hector was nervous and on his guard at first, but then he did let her pet him.

The employee recommended that I take Pandora. Well, Pandora had had a benign tumour removoved from her neck a few months back, and to my mind that put her at high risk for developing more tumours. I thought I'd take Hector instead and trust that he'd come around.

We filled out the paperwork. I made a "donation" (and got shamed because my "donation" wasn't as high as the "suggested donation") and I was handed my cat.

It was a long streetcar ride across the city. The cat was very quiet. I thought about names for him. I got him home and put him in his litterbox, which I located in the back part of the kitchen. He wouldn't move out of it at first.

That evening I updated his microchip infomation on line and registered for his six weeks of free medical insurance. I named him Trilby. And I petted him a lot. He was quite happy to be petted at least.

Since then... he's been gradually settling in. He didn't eat for the first 24 hours, but has been making up for lost time since. He spent a good part of his first Saturday hiding behind the dryer in the basement laundry room, and a good part of Sunday hiding behind the stove. And at first he wouldn't come upstairs with me. After giving him a few days to adjust I carried him up, but it was several days after that before he would come up to my room on his own, and then more time before he'd come up to my attic workroom.

I'd bought him a mouse toy as a subtle hint at what I hoped he'd do for entertainment, and it was a week before he would play with it. He still won't use the cat bed I bought him. He still seems to prefer the kitchen to any other room in the house, but he is following me around more and more.

I'd really like to hear him meow. He only purrs and cries, so far. And I hope in time to not have to wrestle him away from my food every time I eat a meal. And his love bites could be more lovey, less bitey. There I am petting him, or he's licking my fingers, and purring, and suddenly, CHOMP. He doesn't ever break the skin, but it does hurt quite a bit.

But otherwise, as cats go, he's not bad.