The Gift that Keeps on Giving

There we were, my husband, son and I, on the Saturday morning following the arrival of our visitor, now restored to his proper owner. We were collectively forlorn but guess what? This was the Saturday we had planned to go Christmas tree hunting and with heavy hearts we piled into the car, our usual enthusiasm less than evident. We visited the tree farm where we've found The Perfect Tree for over 20 years. We decided upon the very first tree we saw on our way up the hill to the back forty of the property. Yes, we looked a bit here and there and ran back and forth to compare trees but, in the end, that first tree was perfect. I believe we spent a record 30 minutes at the Christmas tree farm; clearly, our minds were on another matter. On the way home, we passed an animal shelter, the question of whether or not we wanted to pursue finding another cat to call our own was posed and a unanimous yes resounded within the car. My husband turned into the shelter only to find it wasn't open to the public for another two hours. Drat. Our own town has an animal shelter and I knew it would be open when we got back there. We stopped by home, dropped off the tree and drove to the shelter. It was understood that finding and adopting a new kitty would be the family Christmas gift.

Bolstered with the knowledge that our cat really seemed to enjoy having another cat in the house, we trooped into the shelter and made our intentions known. We were led through a door and shown the "cat room" in which a large assortment of cats were housed, all appearing to be under a year old. The three of us slipped through the gate and waited to see what would happen. Some kitties rushed over to greet us, tumbling over one another in their excitement and joy to see a friendly human. Maybe these were the ones who would take us home? Others cast a lazy eye in our direction and many simply ignored us. It was so difficult to choose. We each zeroed in on a cat that appealed to us, traded them around and continued in this fashion for some time.

We were looking for a potential lap kitty--a cat who would be very happy to snuggle with us and want nothing more than accept the love and attention we had to give. Our beautiful Finnegan is a dear but he tends to be somewhat aloof a lot of the time. He loves us, I know, but prefers to hang out nearby. One of our prerequisites for the potential new pet was a cat who would purr easily and often and love being held. My husband spotted her first; a beautifully marked little cat who melted and molded into his arms and began to purr contentedly when he picked her up. After a time, she was passed to me. I got the same response and then I set her down on the floor. My son picked her back up and she repeated this performance. It was very hard to ignore the small black kitten that settled companionably on my shoulder as well as the darling bit of gray fluff that my son had been playing with. We finally decided the little affectionate female was the one for us. All the cats had paper collars of blue or pink to indicate their sex. They'd all been given names, too. Our choice was Camille; an approximate seven month old with a nice enough name but this would soon change.

Next, we had to fill out a lengthy application and were informed that an appointment would be made promptly to spay the cat after which she'd return to the shelter for two days to make sure she was healing properly. She would then be ready for us to pick her up and bring her home. Due to our work schedules, it wasn't until the following Saturday that we brought the newest member of the family home. Once again, our number one cat kept his distance for a day or two and then, in no time at all, the two were getting along just fine. When the day came that I noticed two furry little heads bent down sharing one food dish, I knew for certain all would be well. Our home is now graced with two wonderful cats; our regal, handsome Finnegan who knows exactly how impressive he is and our new addition, Nefertiri who resembles an Egyptian Mau somewhat; hence the name.

Somewhere along the line my husband and I became cat people. We used to be confirmed dog lovers. Is this yet another sign of getting older? We still love dogs but it's with a smile on my face that I write "but cats are so much easier to deal with..."

(Confidential to lisaram:  No fair!  You guessed.  You just knew this was coming, didn't you?)