I have always dreamed that a homeless kitten would show up on my porch and demand to be let in.
Well, she's here.
She was afraid of us at first and we thought she might be feral (I thought calling her Will Feral would be genius), but she warmed up very quickly with a full belly and a cozy bed. She's now made herself quite at home, bossing around our other cats and demanding pets and play from us.
Her name is Dolly Parton. Obviously. Because she's confident and fabulous and scrappy and proud of where she's from. (The mean streets of Hyde Park.)
She also has a tiny rhinestone guitar, a big blonde wig and cruises around on the Roomba practicing for her upcoming tour.
The only problem is that our intent was to foster her until she found a permanent home.
Did we really want to be a three cat house?
How would our boys adjust?
How much cat hair can our rugs accommodate?!
I was initially determined to find her a permanent home, blasting her photos and bio out on social and among coworkers. Ray even posted on Next Door that she negotiated a lower fee at the vet and ordered the staff lunch.
But when a coworker told me his sister wanted her, I was immediately defensive.
"Your sister? She sounds like a killer. She probably wants to send her to some animal testing facility or something. Or worse!"
"Umm... what?"
"Yeah, that's what I thought. She seems like a complete weirdo."
"Ok, well, just let me know if you decide you actually want to get rid of her."
Another coworker, who is desperate for me to keep Dolly, chimed in on the conversation. "What do we even know about his sister?!"
"Exactly."
"I could tell you about my sister, if you want."
We looked at him with disgust and suspicion, naturally.
But we haven't actually decided yet. It's been only a few days since she's been out of quarantine from the basement (she had fleas and parasites, poor muffin), and we're still determining how Chuck Norris and Hunter S. Tomcat might get along with her long term.
Thus far they've been patient and tolerant, despite her being a fearless country and western recording artist cat who repeatedly pounces on them. This is them wondering what they hell she is doing in their living room.
Ray is decidedly in the "let's just foster" her camp. I'm more in the "but she adopted us!" camp. Either way, she is radiant and we are both quite taken by her.
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| I swear we are missing only about 20 inches of trim in the basement bathroom, and somehow I captured those 20 inches perfectly. |
She's already cost us a trip to the vet for a health check and and kitten food and toy shopping spree at Petco. I feel like we have to keep her now.
