We were just going to the Dakin Animal Shelter to look, my husband Ken and I told each other. Having lost our sweet cat Lucy just a few months ago, we weren’t entirely sure we were ready take on any new kitty friends just yet. But no harm in looking, right? We had the day off on Tuesday and so set off to see the Shelter’s new common rooms, talk to the helpful staff, and hand in our applications for their files.
As we entered the large common room, I was practically knocked over by a speedy young gentleman cat who took a giant leap straight into my heart. I MUST HAVE THIS CAT! I confided to Ken. I DON’T CARE IF WE’RE READY OR NOT!
Ken nodded absent-mindedly. His eyes were on a beautiful lady cat of a certain age lying languidly on an upper perch. “She’s wonderful,” he whispered. They were gazing raptly at one another, her mellow yellow eyes filled with quiet promise.
In other words, we had both fallen in love at first sight and all our thoughts of “just looking” went flying out the window. We had been chosen, and we could not refuse. I looked at the lady, and Ken looked at the lad, and we both fell in love all over again.
But as I was taking in the beauty of Wilhelmina (for this was her name, as she immediately confided to Ken), a human woman came in and grabbed my boy from his spot by my ankles. She sat down, crossed her legs, and pawed him determinedly. “It would help an adoption if you’d sit on my lap,” she informed the cat, who would have none of it. Who, after all, can command a cat to sit on a lap?
At this point, as my heart was sinking, one of the wonderful staff people came into the room to inform the human woman that she’d left her dog in her car with the windows rolled up, and this was making the dog extremely unhappy.
Well, that did it! My lad was not going to be forced to sit on that woman’s lap — now or ever! As she grumped off to give her dog some air, I ran out of the common room and yelled, “We’re gonna adopt N___ and B___!!!” And that was that. Normally, I’m a nice, polite girl who will step aside and let other people get what they want, but this time I was fearless, fierce, and practically deranged with desire. Ken and I gave each other the thumbs-up sign, and we knew all was well. We’d done the right thing.
So now Willy (as Wilhelmina has genially allowed us to call her) and the boy cat are settling into our humble abode. We were told that Willy is shy and so she is, but she is allowing head rubs and chin scratchings and we figure it’s just a matter of time before she adjusts to life with us (her previous companion had apparently expected her to be a human baby and not a cat at all).
And our boy is rambunctious, full of fun, and is already jumping into our laps of his own accord, not because we order him too. The only problem is this: he has not yet revealed his name. Skeezix? No. Oliver? I don’t think so. How about Doofus, Cannonball, Melvin, or Nutkin? No, no, no, and no.
Well, take your time, little guy. You’ll be with us for a good long while.
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