Week 7 - Saturday
Ipulled my car to a stop outside the shelter and turned to grin at Jamison. “You ready to do this?”
He was practically bouncing in his seat and I’d swear he was vibrating his excitement out into the ether. “Oh my god,yes. Suddenly it feels real, when it felt hypothetical the whole time we were shopping.” He glanced into the back of my truck, where the bed area was stuffed with litterboxes, toys, and other cat accouterments. “I’m gonna pick out a cat,” he whisper-yelled to himself. Suddenly, he flung himself across the console to wrap his arms around me, making me jump. “Thank you.”
Caught off guard, I patted his shoulder awkwardly. “Hey, you paid for all the supplies. I’m just the support staff.”
He shook his head firmly. “You talked me into actually doing this and you talked me through picking everything out. I wouldn’t have had the first clue where to start without you there. So, thank you. Now,” he said, grinning so wide the smile stretched his face, “let’s go pick me a kitty!”
We unbuckled and exited the car together, and I held the shelter’s door for him as we entered. A bell tinkled lightly and a heavyset woman in a furry sweater appeared. “Hello boys!” she greeted us, and started trying to dust off her sweater, which I belatedly realized wasn’tsupposedto be fuzzy. “What can I do for you? Oh, hell, I knew I shouldn’t have worn this. The fur always sticks to it and now it’ll pill when I wash it and I’ll be plucking hairballs off my clothes for months.”
Jamison and I exchanged a glance, uncertain what to say to that. “Uh,” he finally managed. “I’m interested in adopting a cat?”
The woman’s hand fell away from her chest and she squeaked. “Oh my god that’s great! Have you already put in an application?”
Jamison’s face fell and I wanted to wrap a reassuring arm around him, but I decided that would be weird. “Uh, no,” he confessed. “This is sort of a spur of the moment thing. Not wanting a pet!” he added quickly before the woman could comment when she frowned. “Just deciding to get things rolling today. I know you probably need to review my application and maybe talk to people before I can actually take a cat home, but I swear I’m prepared and my friend here -” he jostled me with his elbow “- is ready to hold my hand any time I need help or have questions. I have my lease!” he added, reaching into his pocket to brandish the paperwork. “My landlord is fine with pets, and we just came from the pet store so I have all the supplies so that when you’re ok with me actually taking a cat I’ll be ready, and -”
“Whoooa.” She held up her hand to stop him. “Take a breath. It’s okay. You’re allowed to fill out an application here today, though we will have to call your references and your vet before we can let you take an animal home. By the way, hi. I’m Sandra.”
“Hi, Sandra,” Jamison rasped, quaking slightly in my grip. I wondered if it was excitement or nerves. Maybe both.
She smiled. “Let’s get you set up with the forms we’ll need, and then I can give you a quick intro to how we work and then you can meet the kitties!”
Within a few minutes, Jamison had a pen in his hand and was concentrating fiercely on the form he was filling out while Sandra and I chatted.
“Are you willing to be a character reference?” she asked me, looking slightly concerned. “Especially if he’s a first-time owner, we’re going to want to make sure he’s responsible.”
I nodded. “Definitely. I just came from the pet store with him and I promise you, he’s on top of things and wants to be a good home for any cat who might decide to adopt him.”
“Aww.” She grinned. “That’s a good way of putting it. I’ve found that usually the cat does do the picking. They’ll either engage with him or not, at their own discretion. Do you know what he’s looking for? I can start mentally sorting through the babies while he finishes his paperwork.”
“Yeah, I think he’s looking for a love bug, but one that can be independent when it needs to, as well. He definitely wants a cuddle partner, but he works long hours and he doesn’t want a cat who will cause trouble or be sad if they’re left alone for the day while he works. But once he’s done…it’s couch time.”
Sandra’s face took on a thoughtful look. “Ok, so Snowball is probably not a good match. She loves to snuggle, but she wants it on her schedule. Captain Crunch is a possibility,” she mused on, “but I don’t think his sister Froot Loops is big on cuddling and she definitely doesn’t like to be picked up.”
I felt like I had cat-name whiplash. Snowball was one thing, but Captain Crunch and Froot Loops? I hid a grin behind my hand. “I think he’d like to be able to pick his cat up, yeah,” I agreed.
“Minnie - Cinnamon Toast Crunch,” she clarified as if I’d been asking, which for the record, I had not, “likes being held like ababy. I bet she’d be a good prospect. Wait, what age range is he looking for? We have the Cereal Kittens, but other than that we’re mostly adults at this point.”
The Cereal Kittens? That explained the names, at least. “I’m not actually sure. I don’t think he wants to start completely from scratch with a newborn kitten or anything, but beyond that I think maybe he’s more interested in getting the right personality than the right age.”
“Ooh!” she exclaimed suddenly, startling me. “There’s Solo Cup, if he doesn’t mind a mature adult. He’s a total sweetheart, but he’s eight, so most people aren’t interested. Oh, I would love if Solo found a home.” She clasped her hands to her chest longingly. “He’s been here for more than a year, poor guy.”
Hell,Iwanted to adopt Solo Cup at this point, and I didn’t even know anything beyond his name and his languishing status. Poor guy, indeed. I reminded myself that I didn’t know how Curie was with other cats, and I probably didn’t want to find out by bringing one home to her with no warning or preparation.
“All done!” Jamison crowed, waving his paperwork in the air toward us. “And my sister knows you’re going to call her, and so does my coworker. I didn’t know what to tell them to expect, though.” He paused, chewing his lip. “Can I meet the cats before you call my references, or do we need to wait?”
“Oh, honey.” Sandra grinned at him. “You can meet all the cats you want, you just can’t take them home today.”
Jamison clapped and squealed girlishly, dancing to his feet. “Cats!”
Both Sandra and I laughed at his antics. “I was just asking your friend,” she said, “if you have a preference for age or sex.”
“Oh, uh.” He glanced at me uncertainly. “I don’t really think so? Other than, I guess, I want to have a good number of years with whoever I adopt, so maybe not anyone elderly. I don’t think I could handle losing my pet right away after I found them.”
“Understandable,” she said with a nod. “Let me start you off with the kittens as a group, and then we can move on from there. Come on, boys.” She pocketed Jamison’s paperwork and then led us out of the office into a large area that smelled unfortunately like cat piss. I guess when you were housing that many cats, there was only so much you could do about litterbox odor. “So we have Captain Crunch, Froot Loops, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and Pops. Their mama is Kellogg, of course she is,” she finished with a coo, leading us to a large dog-crate-style cage that held the litter and their mother, all gathered into one furry pile. Mama cocked one eye open at the sound of our footsteps, and then jumped to her feet to greet Sandra with a nose bump to her hand.
The kittens straggled after their mother to the door of the crate, yawning and moving as if we’d awoken them from hibernation rather than what had probably been a catnap.
