I have a couple of heart-warming pet tales to relate, but I'll begin today with my latest addition, MissMift, a lovely Persian girl of undetermined age, whom I adopted from the Humane Society about a year and a half ago.
I didn't realise at the time that she was Persian, as she was completely shaved to the skin, including her face. I had dropped in, there, after an appointment and since I love animals, just went in for a peek. There were about 150 cats, of all shapes, ages and sizes, all meowing for attention, as one passed by their cages. My heart was heavy as they all seemed so unhappy, though hopeful, somehow. I would have loved to be able to take a dozen, at least.
I passed MissMift's cage, who sat quietly and sedately, watching me from the beginning, when I entered the room, with intense copper-coloured eyes. She did not make a fuss, but did not take her eyes off me, the entire time I toured all the cages. Perhaps she felt suspicious of another stranger, or knew that I was drawn to her, somehow. I enquired about her history. She was a stray, abused, recovering from sores and cuts and had a several stitches and large scabs and in fact, had been so matted and tattered that no part of her coat could be salvaged. She'd been a resident, there, for several weeks and looked and smelled simply *awful.*
I spoke to her, for a time, and she remained calm, just out of reach of my fingers, yet never stopped staring into my face. Yes, I took her home, without even realising I'd been making a spontaneous decision, all along, since first entering the room.
Yipes, it was more difficult than anticipated, at first. She *wanted* to approach, but she was so very mistrustful and afraid. She was frightened of feet, voices, movement and hid from me for nearly a week. The couple of times I was successful in finding and nearly touching her, I ended up bitten.
I decided it wisest to have her bide her time so simply talked softly and often and walked especially slowly. when anywhere within her proximity. She could not be spayed because she was so starved and under-weight and it took four months of practically perpetual heat and hormonal upset before she was stable and strong enough to be operated upon.
She gradually began to fluorish, post-surgery, improved appetite, settled mood and one night, soon thereafter, began calling for me from the entrance to my bedroom, a territory which was already claimed by one of my other cats. This became a nightly habit, so I'd get up, talk to her, sit on a chair and she'd jump up, to be petted and to curl up on my lap. We ended up sleeping on the couch, together, quite regularly.
She has turned out to be the most happy, loving, responsive, vocal little cat, the most affectionate, of all three. She *never* fails to come immediately when called. Her chosen territory happens to be the livingroom, so it is now impossible to sit anywhere without her joining me. I really can't imagine home without her.
Just a bit of impetus for those who think they might feel it best to give up with a stray who has lost faith in people, altogether. I actually wondered, once or twice, if I'd made an error in judgement, bringing her home. It definitely wasn't. I don't think anyone else would have taken her, because of the way she looked and the condition she was in.
I'll post a picture of her when adding to this post, later (her picture is already in my profile photos, should any of you feel interested). She's a lovely girl who is well deserving of a few years of peace and contentment, since she seems to be, according to my vet, about six or seven years old.
I'm going to the Humane Society, later this month. It will be interesting, as I wonder if I'll be capable of coming home empty-handed.
