Getting a Third Cat Is a Sign You Are Crazy

Some of you* have been wondering where I've been. I have a darn fine excuse, and her name is Pepper Anne. (*I'm going to go ahead and just pretend that's the case, without any actual proof to support that claim.)

"Hi! I'm Pepper Anne! Won't you be my friend?"

So I saw this picture on Homer the Blind WonderCat's Facebook page. I wrote about my quite-possibly-disturbing-to-non-cat-people "friendship" with the blind cat Homer (stop judging me) not too long ago. It seemed that darling Pepper Anne needed a home, and she was nearby. I began a Super-Stealthy Campaign to win over my husband.

"Just LOOK at this adorable kitten!" I'd chirp, thrusting my phone into his field of vision several times a day.

"Yeah, she's cute," he'd mumble, and continue trying to rake leaves or shower or drive off to work.

"Poor Squeaky," I'd muse, whenever Squeaky the Cat was looking slightly bored. "She needs a playmate."

"Poor Capt. Nap," I'd say, nudging my husband. "See how he's sleeping there on the couch? He totally is wishing he had someone to curl up with."

My husband would look at me blankly and I'd whip out the picture of Pepper Anne again.

"Just LOOK at this adorable kitten!" I'd chirp...and so forth.

After several days of my Super-Stealthy Campaign, I "discovered" that Pepper Anne would be at a local pet store during an adoption event. By making 1,275 perfectly reasonable promises, I managed to talk my husband into going to the pet store "just to LOOK."

Let's fast-forward. We have Pepper Anne. We're several weeks into the trial period, during which we make sure she meshes well with our resident cats. That bit has been rather...TAXING. Let's check in with everyone.

"This is MY toy!"

Squeaky the Cat spends a lot of time guarding this particular toy. When she's not guarding the toy (okay, even when she is guarding the toy), she's hissing, growling, and lunging. Mostly at Pepper Anne, but sometimes at Capt. Nap and/or my husband and me. Good times. She's by far the least won over by Pepper Anne's considerable charms.

"It's totally obvious that you don't love me AT ALL."

Capt. Nap spends a lot of his time skulking near windows and doors, hoping someone will open them and liberate him from the madness that is our home. He also gives us this LOOK, which is designed for (and quite effective at) maximum guilt.

I keep Grouchy-Ass Squeaky and Beleaguered Capt. Nap separate from My New Very Favorite Pepper Anne (just kidding; I love them all equally, except for Squeaky, who is being a real pain) when I'm not around. I've read tons of stuff on how to introduce cats, and pestered the people at the adoption center with 4,857,973 questions. In addition, I've spent around $78,974 on cat-calming items. Below are just a few:

Jackson Galaxy SPIRIT ESSENCES drops and Feliway COMFORT ZONE spray.

Feliway diffusers for the areas in the house where conflicts are most likely to occur. (AKA, the ENTIRE house.)

As I indicated above, the pictures reveal only a tiny portion of the sprays that litter nearly every surface in the house, plus the diffusers plugged in at potential conflict zones. (Did I mention that conflict zones are, like, everywhere?)

I hope you can at least on some pitying level understand why I've been busy for three weeks. YES, I'm aware that my blog is ancient and hasn't been updated since October. LATE October, though, please note. Keep your fingers crossed for us as we enter the fourth and final week of the trial period. Oh, and Squeaky is up for adoption if anyone's interested. (Just kidding.) (Mostly.)

I'm keeping Wee Squeaky, though. She's MUCH better behaved. 

Goodbye to a Friend I Never Met

I’ve had lots of friends over the years; friends who never knew I existed. No, not because I’m some creepy stalker or am unable to make real, live friends. The friends I’m talking about weren’t human. Hang on. Before you get alarmed, I’m not talking about aliens either. I’m talking about birds, groundhogs, chipmunks, beavers, rabbits…all of the wildlife I’ve had the good fortune to get to know by opening my eyes and noticing the natural word around me. It brings me a lot of joy to see Mumbles the chipmunk eating seeds scattered by Stumpy the sparrow at my birdfeeder. There’s Chewy the groundhog, who in warm weather I see munching on grass on a hill by my house. As I’ve moved over the years, I’m always a little sad to leave behind my “friends” who have silly names and never realized I was so happy they were living nearby.

One of the dangers of loving anything is the chance you will lose it. I lost my beloved dog Popcorn when he was 18. I have two healthy and happy cats now: Squeaky and Captain Nap. There’s another cat, too; one to which I didn’t realize how connected I was until he was gone. This little blind kitty wasn’t mine, but I am grieving for him as if he were. He was Homer the Blind Wonder Cat.

I’d been a Homer fan for a couple of years, ever since my sister gave me the book Homer’s Odyssey by Gwen Cooper. The book, the author, and Homer became instant favorites. When I saw Homer had a Facebook page, I officially became his friend, in that weird Facebook way. Gwen would write posts for Homer: funny little observations or mentions of other special-needs cats that needed a forever home. Pictures, too: Homer curled up with Gwen or sitting next to her as she worked on her laptop.

As pets do, Homer got older. Some of Gwen’s more recent posts focused on Homer’s struggles with his health. I, like thousands of his fans, suspected the time was coming, and I dreaded it. Homer had become a fixture in my life, a little like my own cats. I couldn’t pet him or play with him, but he was my friend nonetheless. On Saturday, when I heard Gwen had put Homer to sleep, I cried. I called my husband upstairs and he hugged me while I sobbed over the loss of a cat I’d never met. I cried for Homer, yes, but I cried for his “mom,” Gwen, too. As anyone who’s read Homer’s Odyssey knows, she and Homer have been through a lot together. I couldn’t imagine the pain she was feeling. If I was this sad, what must she be experiencing? It gave me some comfort (because I was kind of wondering if I was crazy) to read comments written by hundreds of Homer’s other Facebook friends who also had cried over losing him.

Gwen: thank you for sharing your little blind wonder cat with the world. Homer: thank you for being my friend. I will miss you.