We watched judges picking the cats up, lifting them, squeezing their legs, shaking a bit of tinsel to check their general interest levels, and we wandered around and peeked in all the different cat carriers filled with various breeds of exemplary felines. There was, among other highlights, a cat agility course. I'm sure you've heard the term "like herding cats." Cats are not made for agility courses. They are agile, yes. But they are uncooperative and lack the ability to respond to outside motivation. The first cat we saw on the agility course just walked around and rubbed its head on the little jumps and little bridges and little tubes. So dumb. We moved away and found a hairless cat to touch (not before applying a large amount of hand sanitizer to prevent the hairless cat from getting our germs).
However, the next time I wandered listlessly by the agility course (there was a lot of listless wandering. We were at a cat show after all), there was a tiny black cat leaping over the various features, lured by the possibility of catching a little feather on a string. She was amazing! I watched her go over the entire course. I was mesmerized. I was practically clapping every time she cleared an obstacle. It might have ended there but Sam watched where they took the little champion and came and got me from whatever cat cage I was poking at.
He took me over to the agility cat's cage and there she was, meowing and twisting around. There was a sign on that cage that said ADOPT ME. I reached through the cage and started petting her. She loved me. We loved each other. Sam watched in increasing dismay as it seemed that I did not just want to touch this cat, I also wanted to hold this cat, and then I wanted, seriously, to take it home with me. May the record show he was very supportive of this insanity. This cat had a thing going on. Like, a weird head twisting thing. And kind of a twitch thing. And when you picked her up, she flopped over like a broken fish. I asked about this, as I imagined this cat running around my home and purring in my ear and generally making me a happier person, and adoption lady said she may have had a stroke but rest assured, she was perfectly healthy. This may have deterred some people but this disability only made her more appealing. Stroke Kitty would soon be mine. The final step was calling my landlord and making sure cats were still allowed, as our lease had stated. And this is where the story gets sad.
Apparently my landlord is phasing cats out due to some crazy cat lady he rents to. He said no, sorry, and ended all of my cat-filled dreams. I had to say goodbye to Stroke Kitty. Sam breathed a secret sigh of relief while stating that he was extremely sad to hear that, and we left. I was heartbroken. I was so heartbroken that I was barely lifted from my malaise by the cat socks Sam bought for me as a surprise. I sighed heavily through the entire Super Bowl (even Madonna's half time show) and I thought about Stroke Kitty.
It wasn't until two days later, when I was compiling my last-ditch feelings-soaked letter to the landlord and emailing the agency about Stroke Kitty to make sure she wasn't gone, when I found out something else. Stroke Kitty is obsessed with having animal friends. Apparently I would not be enough. The agency told me that she needs a cat or dog friend in her life, or she yowls all day every day until everyone around her goes insane. This truly put an end to my dreams of adopting Stroke Kitty. But now I'm on a mission to get my cat-owning friends to adopt her. Anyone?
1 comment:
And here I thought you were just hung over during the Superbowl, or super exhausted from the Bollywood dance party, I didn't realize that your disappointment was resonating so deeply.
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