Lucille Dumbrava
Smudge and Taffy are free! No longer banished to prison (or, more accurately, my bathroom where they have been ensconced for a month behind a series of screens that I had to remove every time nature called), they are now exploring the house. There is not an inch of it left uninvestigated from the back of the closet floor behind my shoes to the highest shelf in the linen closet. They would make good reconnaissance cats; nothing gets by them.
The pain of losing Koala had been weighing heavily on me. I'd expect to see her on one of her missions, carting the catnip mice one at a time to splash them into the water bowl, or lining up her toys in strict geometric patterns on the floor in the hall. A dark shape behind a chair became Koala until closer inspection revealed it to be just a fallen sweater that had been resting on the arm.
It was in this state of mind that I was sitting reading the Sunday papers a month ago. A cup of tea sat half-drunk in front of me, and I was through the news and feature sections, down to the ads. The Petco ad caught my eye - they always have good sales. I opened the ad, and there it was _ Pet Adoption Day at Petco.
There is no thought of replacing Koala. I've learned that each cat has a separate and special place in my heart. But, I've also found that my heart is amazingly flexible. There always seems to be room for another kitty. This is like a gift, a chance to bring home a cat that would otherwise be in a shelter.
There is another consideration. Mindful of the terrible experience I just had bringing in a young cat among my older ones - I had eventually had to find another home for Pandora as she harassed the older cats too much - I decide to get two sisters who would have each other to play with and would not need to bother the others nor be demanding to be the only cat as Pandora did. My last experience with my beloved tiger had alerted me to the many ills that seem to befall male cats more than females. So adopting sisters is the perfect solution.
Armed with a friend and a plan, I head out to Petco. The store is crowded. Outside, clusters of shoppers gather around several cages and pens full of dogs and puppies. Inside are even more dogs, and a seemingly endless supply of cats and kittens. One beautiful cat presses against the side of its cage, trying to nuzzle passersby. I draw closer, admiring the beautiful markings, then notice, shocked, the cat is balancing on three legs. Still, I'm tempted. But the sign identifies the cat as a male. I shake my head and go on to the others. My friend, Bobbie, is not a cat person. Confronted by all the felines, she heads out to bond with the dogs.
Now, I'm going from cage to cage, assessing the animals. A group of lively kittens has attracted a big crowd, and I wander over to their cage. They're beautiful, and they're all playing happily with each other. I see two likely ones, and I press closer to read the information on the sign. As soon as I am within distance, I realize why these beauties are still here. They're all FELV positive. I can't expose my two at home to them.
Then, I come across a cage with two cats. They are older than I'd hoped for, but still look quite young. One is a small Tuxedo cat, all black and white. The other has similar markings in grey, with an added streak down its nose and under its chin. They are resting wrapped around each other. Here they are. My sisters.
One of the women standing near the cages notices my interest.
"Aren't they cute?" she asks.
I agree they are and ask to hold each of them. I want to make sure they like being held and aren't afraid of people. So, I hold one and then the other. Meanwhile, I'm looking for a sign like all the other cages have to tell me a little about them, but this cage doesn't seem to have one.
So the woman heads off, looking for the cats' information, and I am left sitting in a chair in Petco holding two cats who are about to break the sonic boom with the noise of their purrs, as they each push up against me and rub their bodies over every part of me they can reach.
When the woman comes back, she introduces me to the cats. The Tuxedo one is a year-old female named Taffy, and the grey one is a seven-month-old male named Jingles. Not two sisters. And Jingles, at seven months is half again as big as the female. Hmmm.
One look into the faces of the two cats who are now in the process of nesting on my lap, while Jingles is sucking on the buttons of my sweater, does it. Out the window goes the plan, and into my life comes two new cats. I have a feeling it will all work out just fine.
I sign all the adoption papers, pay the fee, calm my astonished friend who really thought I was going to get one kitten, and we all head out to the car, the cats ensconced in cardboard carrying boxes. At home, I set up the bathroom where the cats will stay for a few days as they get used to the house, and the other cats get used to them. A screen separates the cats from the rest of the house.
This is Saturday. By Monday morning, the screen has been added to, so it is now a series of three screens held in place by nails down my hall wall. Taffy is an escape artist. This makes using the bathroom an adventure as each set of screens must be undone separately, all the while making sure neither cat escapes. Then a jump over the bottom screen and inside, slamming the door behind me.
There is also a problem. A big problem. Both cats have diarrhea. Bad. Their well-cat exam is scheduled for this morning and the vet tells me to bring in a stool sample. The cats pass the exam with flying colors - but the next morning the lab results are in. Giardia. They must be kept isolated and given medicine for two weeks.
Great. Two weeks of having every trip to the bathroom a cloak and dagger operation. Somehow, we get through it, and on the fourteenth day, I race to the vet's with another stool sample.
Oh no, I'm told. Now we wait for two weeks to see if the medicine took effect and the giardia is gone. Two more weeks of isolation. I don't know who's more upset, the cats or me.
But, now there is a clean bill of health, and yesterday, the cats were set free. And I take a half-hour long shower without two cats standing on the other side of the shower doors trying to paw their way in.
Lucille Dumbrava is a retired Teacher/counselor whose love of cats and love of writing started when she was a child. Many of her stories about the cats in her life have been collected in a book entitled CatHouse, now available from www.bookstandpublishing.com, Amazon, Alibris and local Northern California bookstores. You can also order directly from Lucille. She can be reached at Email
