On a blog about things I care about, I would be remiss if I didn’t start it off with my cat. His name is Conner, technically, though he’d be more likely to answer to Fluffle-Cuddle-Wufflegus for all I use it. Normally I call him Sweetie, or Baby Doll, or some other darling little pet name. I can’t help it. He is a sweetie.
Due to having a roommate I do have only one cat at the moment. My roommate had their own cat (the orange one above) but does not currently have one. The most cats I’ve ever lived with at one time is three and honestly I find that to be a good balance number. While I wouldn’t mind visiting the Cat House on Kings (you know, that place with the lady who’s known for ‘owning’ over 1,000 cats? it’s actually a giant rescue) I would never want to care for that many cats. I’d be ok with fostering a mama with her kittens or something of that nature but actually maintaining that many cats over a long period of time would probably take the joy out of cat ownership for me. Just think of all the litter, and what the kitties leave within it.
My cat was adopted from a shelter located at the mall in Buffalo, New York during the short time that I lived there. There were about fifteen or so cats there at the time, but he was definitely the most vocal. He came right up to the plastic window-door and made sure that we noticed him. So of course I decided I had to get some room time with him. I admit in the first few moments I was concerned he’d be more of an on-his-own type cat and would never really like me much, considering he only crawled on me so that he could get to a table that he actually wanted to sit on, but there was just something about him. Maybe it was the fact that the shelter had named him Cry Baby and I thought that was just an affront to his cat pride, I dunno. His backstory was that someone had found him in their garage one morning and brought him in. From the moment they’d found him he had been ‘crying’ hence the name they picked. He’d only been at the shelter for a few days, apparently, when I adopted him.
Turns out my fears he wouldn’t like me and he’d be super aloof were entirely unfounded.
Every morning – except for on nights when it gets really hot, I wake up to this darling face. Sometimes he’ll be perched on my shoulder, on my hip, stretched out on my back, or just snuggled up beside me. But he is a grade A cuddler. He regularly comes up to me during the day and settles himself down on me. Often right on my computer because, well, that’s where he wants to sit. Right where my attention is at.
Speaking of ‘where my attention is,’ he also likes somehow activating videos and then sitting and watching them like he intended to do that all along. If I ever leave my computer open you can bet I will come back to him watching something on YouTube.
Now for a quick photo dump:
He’ll be four sometime this year. I’ll have had him a whole year and a half. It’s hard to wrap my mind around sometimes. I mean, I know I haven’t had him forever. He’s the first cat I’ve adopted on my own as an adult, and obviously I haven’t always been an adult. Actually I don’t often feel like an adult even now (and I graduated from college already). He’s mine though. And, perhaps more importantly, I am his.
If anyone is here to see me fail and hopefully eventually not fail at art, stay tuned. I have a comic planned for him. I hope it’ll turn out cute at the very least. We’ll have to see though.
Oh and also if you haven’t had your cat fix yet, here’s an instagram I love that’s full of the cutest foster kitties (and their canine defender) for you to squee your heart out to. I stumbled on the creator via pinterest one day when I spied a picture of their one-eyed cats and giant dog all huddled around this super tiny kitten (apparently he was only four weeks old then). There are so many kittens on there you might hurt yourself with how cute it all is.