Two years ago today I went to the Denver Dumb Friends League to meet a few cats, without any real intention of committing to an impulsive adoption.
I met Screech, who was a gorgeous orange and white striped boy, but he was just too talkative for my taste. Then I met Grace, a 3-month-old orange kitten who was full of energy and cute as a button.
Then I met Holland, who darted to hide under the desk in the corner as soon as they brought her in the room. I wanted NOTHING more than to pet her silky fur, but she would have none of it. She shied from the adoption counselor Lisa, she shied from me, she wouldn't be tempted out with toys or treats.
They estimated her age at around 5 months (her vet agreed when I took her in for her checkup), and she had already been at the shelter for 2 months. She was brought in with her mother and littermates, who had already been adopted. Nobody wanted Holland because she is black, and because she wasn't your stereotypical outgoing, playful kitten. She is afraid of people and very skittish. Apparently nobody taught her how to sell herself to prospective parents...
Partly because I wanted a black kitten, and partly because I started crying when Lisa told me "Holland just needs to go home" and even though it went against every lick of common sense that I have, I decided that her home needed to be MY home. Lisa managed to wrangle her into her carrier, paperwork was signed, I made a quick stop at PetSmart on the way home for the necessities, and home we went. I never even touched her until I got her out of her carrier. She hid for a while then did some cautious exploring her first night home. But she would run and hide whenever I approached her.
Our first two days together were mainly spent with me in tears, trying to coax her out from under the bed, wondering what in the heck I had been thinking being a novice cat owner and bringing home a challenging (I thought) kitten. She taught me wonderful lessons about patience and perseverance.
My itty bitty love's first night at home (before I had my carpets cleaned...
):
Our first of many lazy Sundays together - after just three nights and two days with me, she was on my lap
:
I think this is a cute picture, even if her eyes are a little wonky:
And my (still pretty itty bitty) love on her 2nd gotcha day, in some of her favorite places:
On my computer
On her scratching post
Looking to get into some mischief
Playing with the pictures my nieces colored for her
Whenever I start to get frustrated when she wakes me up at 2:00 in the morning because she thinks it's playtime, or at 5:00 in the morning because she thinks it's time to eat, or when she knocks things off of high places or swats at me because I mistake playtime for petting time or hinders my computer access by laying across the keyboard, I remember those first couple of days when all I wanted was for her to trust me and I remind myself how special she is and how much I love her. It makes it impossible to get angry with her...
She's still afraid of every person in the world except for her meowmy, but that's OK by me.
Happy Gotcha Day, sweetheart!!
Then I met Holland, who darted to hide under the desk in the corner as soon as they brought her in the room. I wanted NOTHING more than to pet her silky fur, but she would have none of it. She shied from the adoption counselor Lisa, she shied from me, she wouldn't be tempted out with toys or treats.
They estimated her age at around 5 months (her vet agreed when I took her in for her checkup), and she had already been at the shelter for 2 months. She was brought in with her mother and littermates, who had already been adopted. Nobody wanted Holland because she is black, and because she wasn't your stereotypical outgoing, playful kitten. She is afraid of people and very skittish. Apparently nobody taught her how to sell herself to prospective parents...
Partly because I wanted a black kitten, and partly because I started crying when Lisa told me "Holland just needs to go home" and even though it went against every lick of common sense that I have, I decided that her home needed to be MY home. Lisa managed to wrangle her into her carrier, paperwork was signed, I made a quick stop at PetSmart on the way home for the necessities, and home we went. I never even touched her until I got her out of her carrier. She hid for a while then did some cautious exploring her first night home. But she would run and hide whenever I approached her.
Our first two days together were mainly spent with me in tears, trying to coax her out from under the bed, wondering what in the heck I had been thinking being a novice cat owner and bringing home a challenging (I thought) kitten. She taught me wonderful lessons about patience and perseverance.
My itty bitty love's first night at home (before I had my carpets cleaned...
Our first of many lazy Sundays together - after just three nights and two days with me, she was on my lap
I think this is a cute picture, even if her eyes are a little wonky:
And my (still pretty itty bitty) love on her 2nd gotcha day, in some of her favorite places:
On my computer
On her scratching post
Looking to get into some mischief
Playing with the pictures my nieces colored for her
Whenever I start to get frustrated when she wakes me up at 2:00 in the morning because she thinks it's playtime, or at 5:00 in the morning because she thinks it's time to eat, or when she knocks things off of high places or swats at me because I mistake playtime for petting time or hinders my computer access by laying across the keyboard, I remember those first couple of days when all I wanted was for her to trust me and I remind myself how special she is and how much I love her. It makes it impossible to get angry with her...
She's still afraid of every person in the world except for her meowmy, but that's OK by me.
