fuck FIP, and on being "the chosen one" →[More:]

"You know, I've realized lately that you never really stop loving once you've loved someone (pets count as someones for me).

You just keep them in a corner of your heart forever and ever, and you keep adding past and current loves, until your heart is all filled up with love." -- Twiggy

Thank you Twiggy, I've been looking for a way to articulate this, especially to my husband.

We lost Justin, our 10 month old kitten, to dry FIP 2 weeks ago (this was the slow, lingering, hateful kind). As some of you know, we lost our earlier young cat, Kronos, to the wet phase form (the fast, devastating kind) just last year. So of course we played the "coulda, shoulda" blame spiral game, until our vet told us that FIP is exactly as transmissible, and as predictable, as cancer, and we just got extremely unlucky.

So anyway. Yesterday a friend of mine who volunteers at the Humane Society (the same Boulder Valley HS where Jackson Galaxy got his start, incidentally) texted me to say that there was a cat there I really needed to take a look at. I texted back "sorry not in the mood for a new cat right now". "Just go see him" was the response.

So I went, with the idea that, especially in the case of an adult cat stranded in the midst of kitten season, I could at least sponsor him in hopes of giving him more time / leeway for adoption.

Well that was all fine until I walked up to the cage and this beautiful blue-eyed seal fluffball came up to meet me, flopped down and rolled over to reach both paws through the bars in a plea that was as plain as words: "for God's sake, please don't leave me here!" I reached a finger out to scratch his cheek, and he gently took it in his paw and held it to the side of his face, starved for affection. He'd been in that 2'x3' cage, in that harsh, lonely, fluorescent-lit, noisy sterile environment, for at least a month the intake card said, transferred in from Cheyenne, Wyoming. From the empty check form, no one had even bothered to try to meet him yet. The chances of a six-year-old cat being adopted, no matter how healthy or friendly, especially in the midst of kitten season, are pretty slim.

So I went through all the various meet-and-greet discussions with the HS staff. Yes, he is friendly and easy to handle. Yes he is well socialized. No litterbox issues. FIV/FeLV negative. Already chipped. No eye crud or respiratory issues. Big purr. Kind, curious, ankle rub / tail caress kind of cat, eager to investigate and cheek mark every item in the empty office they put us in for meet-and-greet, including jumping up onto the 5' bookcase from the floor, so he's healthy and active. Main concern is that he is very thin and his coat is a mess, tho he certainly did enjoy being brushed.

Then I asked - why was he surrendered, did anyone know?

"Only note on his file was that his owner surrendered him due to "personal problems".

Sigh. The unemployment / homelessness / repo rate in Cheyenne, WY is bad right now, very bad. I'm willing to bet that someone's life implosion became this cat's personal tragedy through no fault of his own.

"OK I'll take him." (inner dialogue: "my husband is going to kill me, to say nothing of what Marlowe's going to think...").

So for the third time in 12 months, with great trepidation and a heavy heart, I brought home an indignant, meowing, wriggling cardboard box, and set it on the living room rug for Marlowe to sniff. He sniffed. Backed away a bit and hissed. The box hissed back. Marlowe turned tail and ran into the next room.

"Well, that's off to an indifferent start."

I set up the guest room with food and water, and released the new guy inside. Hung out with him a bit, then left him to adjust to his new surroundings.

Mr lfr came back from his bike ride about a half hour later. "Um, go look in the guest room, and please don't yell at me."

He went and looked. Spent a few minutes with the new guy. Came back.

"Why would I yell at you? He seems like a great cat. Have the 2 of them met?"

"Yeah, they had a hiss-off, and Marlowe's sulking, so I'm going to give them some time."

So once again we have a new cat sequestered in the guest room, and Marlowe sniffing and sulking around the door. Somehow, beyond all hope or reason, just because that skinny fluffball reached out from behind the bars of that cage, and chose me.

I probably need my head examined, but I just couldn't leave him there.