Operation Suki: The Also-Rans
Before I tell y'all more about the cat we did take home, I want to say a word or two about the ones we left behind. On our first visit, we drew up a list of four or five felines who we enjoyed meeting and the idea behind our return last night was to visit with them all again, and settle on one to take back with us.
Until we walked in, our leading contender was Reed, a huge old sugar-and-spice tabby with an amazing backstory. The man who rescued him discovered him swimming in the Chicago River. He was declawed on all four paws and the vet who examined him said he had the worst teeth they'd ever seen; in the end, they had to pull them all, and there was still a shaved patch on his side from the anaesthesia. Otherwise, he was healthy and robust--18 lbs. robust, in fact, only one of which represents weight gained in the shelter.
I liked him because he was the most mellow and seasoned, but still friendly despite all he'd been through--and, as a bonus, supremely unlikely to ever be a menace to visitors of property. But![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu found him too listless. Attempts to play with him didn't go far (although I blame this more on the aggressiveness of other cats in the room than his own personality) and, although he took petting well, anything more than one stone is a bit much for a lap cat.
monshu's favourite was an orange tabby named Timmy Boy. As the name suggests, he was young and certainly playful enough. When I entred the room, he was clinging to a scratching post, dangling himself a foot off the ground. When I tried to pet him, he ducked into an inverted hamper and it took a while to track him down again. I looked at him, and all I saw was Trouble. In the same room had been a lithe champagne Siamese-tabby mix called Uma. Uma was gorgeous--and knew it. She readily allowed monshu to take her onto his lap, but went so limp she veritably dripped to the floor; she reminded me of the "boneless cat" from the Peanuts comics. Neither of us was surprised to find she had been adopted in the meantime.
And then, presiding over a private harem in the quiet back room, there was a big fluffy black tom who had been named Koifisher because he'd been frequently spotted at a koi pond. Fishing. Serene and lovely, but too reserved for the Old Man. Near the end of the visit, when we were weighing the pros and cons of our final two--Reed and our slinky silver darling--I couldn't help myself and began chuckling. So I'm drawn to the mellow middle-aged tom with intriguing life experiences andmonshu wants a handsome, unsure, playful young-un with a striking coat and long slender legs? I pointed this out to him and he frowned, "Twinkies have their place, too!"
As we were waiting for the test results on our final selection, we saw the same young girl with her parents who had been around during our initial tour and overheard their shortlist. Both Reed and Koifisher were on it, and I smiled knowing that neither one would be there for long.
Until we walked in, our leading contender was Reed, a huge old sugar-and-spice tabby with an amazing backstory. The man who rescued him discovered him swimming in the Chicago River. He was declawed on all four paws and the vet who examined him said he had the worst teeth they'd ever seen; in the end, they had to pull them all, and there was still a shaved patch on his side from the anaesthesia. Otherwise, he was healthy and robust--18 lbs. robust, in fact, only one of which represents weight gained in the shelter.
I liked him because he was the most mellow and seasoned, but still friendly despite all he'd been through--and, as a bonus, supremely unlikely to ever be a menace to visitors of property. But
monshu found him too listless. Attempts to play with him didn't go far (although I blame this more on the aggressiveness of other cats in the room than his own personality) and, although he took petting well, anything more than one stone is a bit much for a lap cat.monshu's favourite was an orange tabby named Timmy Boy. As the name suggests, he was young and certainly playful enough. When I entred the room, he was clinging to a scratching post, dangling himself a foot off the ground. When I tried to pet him, he ducked into an inverted hamper and it took a while to track him down again. I looked at him, and all I saw was Trouble. In the same room had been a lithe champagne Siamese-tabby mix called Uma. Uma was gorgeous--and knew it. She readily allowed monshu to take her onto his lap, but went so limp she veritably dripped to the floor; she reminded me of the "boneless cat" from the Peanuts comics. Neither of us was surprised to find she had been adopted in the meantime.And then, presiding over a private harem in the quiet back room, there was a big fluffy black tom who had been named Koifisher because he'd been frequently spotted at a koi pond. Fishing. Serene and lovely, but too reserved for the Old Man. Near the end of the visit, when we were weighing the pros and cons of our final two--Reed and our slinky silver darling--I couldn't help myself and began chuckling. So I'm drawn to the mellow middle-aged tom with intriguing life experiences and
monshu wants a handsome, unsure, playful young-un with a striking coat and long slender legs? I pointed this out to him and he frowned, "Twinkies have their place, too!"As we were waiting for the test results on our final selection, we saw the same young girl with her parents who had been around during our initial tour and overheard their shortlist. Both Reed and Koifisher were on it, and I smiled knowing that neither one would be there for long.