We adopted him almost a year ago. I'd never owned a cat before. I had nothing in particular against them, but I'd always considered myself more of a dog person, owing to the fact that I had a dog as a kid (Well, unless they were a dog on my paper route. I definitely wasn't a dog person for those ones), and that my grandmothers' cats were always mean to me. But he came right over to us when we went into the shelter, and sort of made us enamored of him. We were just looking, but we decided right then that this was the right one. He was curious and somewhat affectionate, and we took to him.
His name at the shelter was Mario, but we decided it didn't fit, so we renamed him Finn (although I usually call him "Bubba" for some reason), partly for the Irish connection, and partly as a tribute to Mark Twain. We went out and bought supplies, toys, and a new carrier (which he promptly pooped all over on his first ride home and ruined), and brought him into our home. As he got used to his new surroundings, we determined that he would never be allowed to sleep in the bedroom with us, as he treated every foot or hand movement under the covers as something to be chased down and attacked. But living so close to a major road, we also determined that he would be an indoor cat.
He started to develop habits and favorite places to lie down and hang out. His favorite perches became the chair in front of the living room window (so he can look outside), and the top of the washing machine (so he can survery his kingdom). Even though he's petrified of getting wet, he seems to love coming into the shower, just at the edge of the water, or hoping up on the toilet seat to watch the water swirl down. He's definitely a fan of running water, as he'll only drink out of his bowl after batting it around a bit to make the water move. Getting one of those running water bowls is definitely on the to-do list.
He also started learning to jump. First just up on the bed and sofa, and then on EVERYTHING. You can always tell where Finn's been, because he leaves a little trail of hair just about everywhere he goes. Lint rollers and special vacum attachments were bought to try to combat the fluff, but it's a never ending battle.
And the best part is, he talks. He really does. Not in English, of course, but he definitely makes conversation with his little chirps and hums. Sometimes he sounds aggravated, but mostly he's just chatty. I really do wonder what it is he's trying to tell me. His favorite thing to do right now (and has been for a while) is to jump on my bed and start rooting in the fleece blanket on it. He does it for hours, and talks to me the whole time while I'm watching TV or sitting at my computer.
Now that it's just me and Finn, we're bonding a bit. He's definitely a little freaked out about things right now, so he wants to make sure I'll be around, and in his sights, whenever he can get me. I like having him around too. It gives me someone else to talk to besdies myself, and he's company. Living completely on your own, for someone who's rarely done that before, it helps to have another live body in the house, even if he does cover me with hair and spill water all over the kitchen.
No comments:
Post a Comment