: : home     : : reviews     : : days gone by     : : litmag     : : who?     : : neighbors     : : contact     : : nobel reading project    

10 september 2001

when harry met wilma

Wait just a moment for today's entry to load. Photos, yep.

I have a very good explanation for my absence last week. I think you'll understand, and thanks to those of you who dropped me a line to say hi! Hi back!

You see, Wilma hasn't been in such good spirits lately.

While I have the option of telecommuting from home, I do need to be at work for meetings and brainstorming on many days. That has left Wilma at home to play (alone) with her toys, nap, snack, and watch life go by in the windowsill. When she hears my keys in the lock, she comes sprinting to the door and plops down for hugs and kisses. It's time to play now...get the feather on a stick, please. Then dinner. Then some stalk and pounce. Then some tickle.

Most people believe that cats are solitary animals. I suppose they are better solitary pets than, say, dogs. But they still want companionship, and have very specific ways of telling you. Whether it's a head butt, or by pulling up the carpet, or by licking the table leg; if they do it enough, they're likely saying that they're lonely while you're gone. Try as you might, no amount of evening playtime can compensate for you being gone all day.

She's been sending me little cues. They've weighed heavily on my mind for the past couple of months.

In that time, I've paid a few visits to our local humane society with mixed feelings. Will I have to increase the asthma meds if I bring someone else home? Where can I get one of those weird-looking hairless critters? What if Wilma doesn't take kindly to some new cat in her territory, or worse, eats it?

This week, they called. A few weeks ago, someone had abandoned a mother and kittens by the front door. They weren't yet weaned. Now, most of the kittens had been adopted out, except for the mom and a six-week-old grey tabby.

Into the car went me and my inhaler.

And don't you know they'd put him right next to the front door.

Adopting someone from our local humane society isn't exactly stop-and-go shopping. Once you meet someone you like, they give you a three-page application to complete. It includes previous residences, references, and extensive questions on your intentions and committment. When you leave town, where will Fuzzy Family stay? Do you understand that Furry Family members can live 18-23 years? Furthermore, what are their moving plans if you decide to relocate?

I turned in my paperwork, and went home to wait and hug on Wilma for awhile. If everything went through okay, it might be our last bit of time alone. For whatever it was worth, I suppose I was trying to tell her that no one was coming in to take her place. After all, she picked me that day at the dump. Oh, you're allergic to cats? Take me home anyway.

Later that evening, the phone rang.

Even later that evening, Wilma had decided that someone was absolutely not to be restricted to one room of the house. She wanted him out and running around and sniffable, and pronto.

Within a day, I can safely say that my initial fears went out the window pretty quickly. Like people, animals understand adoption, too. Wilma has decided to alternate between being mom and big sister. She grooms him, allows him to curl up to her at naptime, and gives him a lot of...um...exercise. My home has become a World Wide Wrestling/National Geographic special. He'll take a bath. I'm not wheezing.

Welcome home, Harry. I think Wilma likes you.