Roger and Me
(Editor’s note: Realizing you’ve missed a blog post during Nablopomo, I’ve learned, is something like forgetting to take your birth control pill. You wake up quite suddenly - far earlier than is reasonable on a Sunday - then immediately rack your brain trying to think of when you took/wrote it, finally realize that you didn’t, swear under your breath, and get out of bed to go rectify the matter.)
So, I finally convinced my darling, handsome, exquisitely intelligent husband that it would be a good idea to add something furry to the household, specifically, a kitty. I have been trying to accomplish this for… hmm… about five years (also known as “Ever since we moved in”.) Luckily for me, I am persistent and he is in love with me, so yesterday I went down to the MSPCA at Nevins Farm in Methuen to see who all was looking for a forever home. I was all excited, went in, had some preliminary fact-finding conversation with the lady at the front desk, then headed in to meet my future fluffball. I checked out the “Colony Room”, which was sort of like the living room of a crazy cat lady’s house. There were probably 15-20 cats milling about, sleeping on chairs and in cubbies, some scrabbling with shaky-mice and being ultra-adorable.
One of the volunteers found out I might be looking for a lap-cat, and introduced me to Roger. Roger was probably the complete opposite of what I envisioned when I went in to look: A big, angora-furred Maine Coon, possibly 20 pounds (easily the size of a Thanksgiving stuffer, for comparison), and probably the most laid back lump of adorable I’ve ever met. The volunteer put Roger in my lap, and Roger immediately went back to sleep with little more than an adjustment of his head onto my knee. He was total lap-cat material.
Only one problem. Roger likes to shed. A lot. I think I’m still wearing some of Roger somewhere on me. I probably will find bits of him for the next few days. I knew I could never get a 20-pound shed-machine past the gates at Chez Cianci, so unfortunately, I had to leave Roger to find a forever home with someone else.
And here’s why it’s hard for me to go to the MSPCA.
I really wanted to take Roger home. You could tell he was a kind soul, and I completely wanted to scoop him up, take him home, and lavish him with jingly toys and chin scratches for the rest of his life. But being grown-up sucks. I had to actually use that practical part of my brain, the one I abhor. Roger is a giant: he could easily take up his own half of the bed, or his own 3rd of the couch, which just wouldn’t work for anyone in our small condo. We could spin his fluff and use it to clothe a village somewhere for a year. Roger was simply too big, and too fuzzy for us, and it broke my heart to realize that he just wouldn’t fit into our lives. I suppose in the end it’s better for both of us if he goes to a home where he will fit, both literally and figuratively. I know that my heart tells me that I want to take ALL of them home, that I want to quit my day job, rescue cats and write books with one cat in my lap, one sitting on my head, one brushing around my legs, and probably one sleeping on my keyboard… but we’ve only got so much room, and if we’re going to give a kitty a “forever home”, we have to be careful which kitty we choose.
So the hunt continues. It was a good, but hard, first day out looking around. It was all I could do not to run up to the front desk and volunteer at the shelter. After my degree is done, I fully intend to. By the way If you’re in the market for a lap-cat, and you’re not opposed to a little extra fuzz, then run down to Nevins and scoop Roger up and take him home. And let me know when you do.
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