After buying my first home not too long ago, I decided I was ready for the miracle of motherhood. Initially I considered a dog, but after some consideration and what ifs, I opted for a cat.
But first to maneuver the gauntlet of approval that is the cat lady.
This is usually a standard physical type, a combination of my Aunt Margaret with a dollop of Gen. George S. Patton thrown in. That is, if Patton had ever worn a t-shirt with the words “Cats are People Too” or “Just Purring Along” emblazoned on it.
And then there’s the adoption application. Will the cat be allowed outside? Where outside? Why do you want to adopt a cat? In the event any of the following occurs, what would happen to the cat?
-loss of job
-sudden illness (you or someone else)
-sudden allergy (you or someone else)
My God, what would I do? Forget about the cat.
Then of course, you had to consider the outdoors. Is there a backyard? Is there a fence? How high? Could a stranger get in if he wanted?
Suddenly my eagerness to adopt a pet brought me to the undeniable truth that had doomed so many of my relationships….could I love like the cat ladies love? To worry and care for to the end with no hope of receiving cool stuff in return like super impressive birthday gifts or fantasy vacations (except for someone like that chick who lucked out and adopted Grumpy Cat, an animal with a crowd-pleasing deformity).
I was surprised by how much I wanted to impress these women; to win them over despite their immunity to style and refusal to accessorize. I still remember how one woman, while sitting on a folding chair at a tractor supply store, clutched a Chihuahua to her chest and looked at me as if to say, “And I bet you’re not even a hoarder.”
I was told after submitting my application to a woman at in in-store adoption event the she’d need to “show it to the board.” Was I adopting a cat or applying for a Guggenheim grant?
I forged ahead, knowing victory was within my grasp. I was determined to make Aunt Margaret, or as I called her, Old Blood & Guts, proud.
After stumbling around on the Internet for a few weeks, I found success–a 10 lb Maine Coon furry truffle named Arielle aka Little Sister aka BooBoo aka Bubbles.
Thanks to Michelle Geyer at Furry Feet Pet Rescue in Walnutport, PA, for bringing my search to an end and to Aunt Margaret for her love of country and kitty cats.