On adopting a cat
I thought I’d reenter the land of blogs to tell the world that I recently became responsible for the life of another living creature.
Since I purchased my own home nearly eight years ago I have thought on and off about bringing a pet into my life. The delay seems to have been that I have always been more inclined towards a dog, but I couldn’t see how a dog would actually work in my life, so I gave it up. That’s because I run, and in the winter I don't have enough daylight available around work to both run and then come home and walk a dog, as their are limits to how early in the morning I am prepared to get myself out of bed and venture out into a dark frost, so I surmised that I'd need a dog that could run. And a dog that could can run wouldn’t enjoy townhouse life, might annoy my neighbours, and so it went on.
Then as a former wildlife conservationist I have had a long-standing objection to cats, and the destruction they cause. So it wasn’t until COVID, and hearing that Canberra was to become a cat-containment city, that I began to ponder getting a cat. At that point in lockdowns you couldn’t get one for adoption, such was the demand, and the list of criteria required for what was available was long, such that it seemed my life arrangements wouldn’t qualify me to care for a cat rescued off the street, which was a ridiculous notion. But I began to research what breed of cats do better left alone, since returning to work in the office was sure to happen one day. That’s when I discovered the British Shorthair cat, and was rather taken with their chubby cheeks and round faces and wide-apart ears. Then I found out there was a breeder nearby, so I sent an email out of curiosity, one thing led to another, and before long I had added my name to the list.
I’m actually still on that list, waiting for a kitten. But more recently I became aware of a male blue British shorthair, which was my reference, that a friend of extended family wanted to re-home. So I expressed my interest, time went by, then on Christmas Eve I was asked again if I still wanted to take him, to which I said an enthusiastic yes on Christmas Day, so I have now adopted a six-year-old male cat.
His name had formerly been Piggie, but partly as I decided to take him on Christmas Day, and he’s a rather distinguished British Cat, I have renamed him Ebenezer Piggie. It’s also partly as I like the biblical reminder “hither by thy help I’ve come”, and as it happens it was also the name of a great-grandfather of mine.
I’m not overly familiar with cats, and won’t claim expert status two weeks in, like some fool of the internet, but I believe I have come upon one of the most easy-going cats ever. From the beginning he has climbed on top of me and purred like a small motorcycle engine, let me put a harness on him to take him outside even though he spent his previous life unharnessed in a 14th floor apartment, eaten whatever I have given him, hasn’t destroyed any furniture. But he does let me know, loudly, when he is not happy, which is at times amusing.
Receiving this cat of my choice, out of the nowhere, as though I am doing someone else a favour, has been a little gift of grace to me. It is a blessing to have something in my home to love and care for, who - mostly - is happy to receive it, and gives a little love and affection in return. And I feel strangely noticed, as though what I now do with my days at home, and whether or not and when I return home, is observed and important to a small furry someone. At times I have wondered what I have done to my world as I now bear this responsibility and a duty of care to this creature, but that is perhaps good for me.
I’m still learning and realising what are the therapeutic benefits of taking on this furry friend. A couple of weeks after I had signed up for this cat, which I did on the day my grandfather entered into glory and I couldn’t be there because of the plague, I read this article: https://www.abc.net.au/news/2021-09-19/trauma-healing-cat-pet-something-to-live-for/100446182 I wasn't anywhere close to suicidal, but I suppose I have my collection of traumas, and I was intrigued to read that the unconditional love of pets gives us a feeling of belonging. Already I walk around my house chatting to this cat.
I feel like attending to this creature, and indeed creating an instagram for him, is a lesson in slowing down and noticing small moments of wonder and delight. When I put his harness on and have to wander slowly about my courtyard while he sniffs and stares and pokes at leaves and spiderwebs, I get impatient to come back inside and do important things, but it is no doubt good for me to do a little something to please another living creature. I suppose all this happens to parents of small children, but for those of us without those small harbingers and bringers of wonders, we make do with the creatures.
I’m sure there’ll be more of the cat featured here, and I have already noted on social media that I might just unashamedly embrace being a crazy cat lady.