Calling All "Cat Ladies!"

November 11, 2011: I pulled up to the Sacramento SPCA to find the parking lot packed and cars lined up down the street. The day before, we had run a story about the shelter on the news. They had too many animals and in an effort to find them new homes, they were holding a "sale" of sorts. On 11/11/11, you could adopt a pet for just $11.11 - spay/neuter surgery and vaccines included. I'd wanted a cat for years, but concerns about the costs of adoption had kept me from taking the plunge. So when this opportunity presented itself, I couldn't resist. I drove down on a whim and told myself I was just "looking." Yah right.

I walked in the door and was instantly overwhelmed. There were easily more than 800 people packed like sardines in the hallways. Volunteers were running around like chickens with their heads cut off (pardon the poor choice of idiom). Someone hurriedly threw a clipboard at me and explained the process. I was told to look for animals who still have paperwork on their crates (no paperwork = already spoken for), write down the name/ID number and bring it back. Then, I could meet those animals and decide if I wanted to take one home.

As I wandered through rooms and hallways full of cats, I scrawled down dozens of names/numbers. I knew I wanted a kitten, so everybody who looked cute (which is pretty much everybody) got written down. I stopped in front of a stall with three tiny kittens inside. The cute factor almost killed me. I immediately put an asterisk next to the name of a little orange dude. As I walked by the next stall, a six-month-old, gray tabby kitten looked up at me. She jumped up to the highest platform, stood on her back paws and put her front paws on the glass, seemingly begging me to play with her. I traced my fingers on the glass. Delighted, she chased them eagerly with her paws. I squatted down, and put my fingers through the tiny space under the door. She jumped down and swatted at them like it was the greatest thing that ever happened to her. Turns out it was one of the greatest things that ever happened to me. Two hours later, I got to meet her. A few hours after that, I signed the paperwork. And three days after that (after they took out her lady bits), I took her home. I have been madly in love ever since.

Cleo, right after I decided to adopt her.
(Her shelter name was Scarlett, but I liked Cleo better.)

Fast-forward to this summer. Even though she's now three years old, my Cleo still acts like a kitten. All she ever wants to do is play. But now that I commute to San Francisco for work, I'm gone for 13-14 hours a day. When I get home, Cleo cries and cries and begs and begs for me to play with her. I toss plastic balls with bells in them (her favorite) down the hallway. She tears across the apartment, chasing them down. I love how happy it makes her, but lately, I've been so exhausted, I only last about 20 minutes before I crawl into bed despite her very vocal demands that we keep playing.

For a few months now, I've been seriously considering getting her a little brother or sister. Someone she can play with while I'm at work. So when the Sacramento County Animal Shelter held a similar adoption "sale" this past weekend, I decided it was time.

It was a different shelter, but the same story. Rooms full of cats, waiting for homes. Hallways absolutely jammed with people willing to offer one. Once again, I wrote down the names/ID numbers of close to two dozen kittens. And again, as I was walking down a hallway, I saw a six-month-old tortoiseshell kitten peering up at me through the glass.  She stood on her hind legs, put her front paws on the glass and gave me the, "will-you-play-with-me?" look. I put my hand up to the glass and she got so excited, trying to chase my fingers through the window. Total déjà vu. 

About 20 minutes later, I got to meet her. She was playful and sweet and her ears were too big for her face (don't worry - she'll grow into them...I hope). I knew she'd be the perfect playmate for Cleo. An hour and a half later, I signed the paperwork to bring her home. And this afternoon, I get to do it.

The new girl. Name TBD. This picture doesn't
do her cuteness justice - she looks terrified here.

Ever since I brought Cleo home, my friends have teased me about being one of those "crazy cat ladies." So you can imagine the reaction I got when I told everyone I was bringing home another one. I know it's all good-natured fun and I don't take offense. But the more I think about it, the more I take offense to the stereotype in general. Because, like so many stereotypes, it is so supremely unfair.

Sure, I'm a single woman who lives alone with her cat. Sure, I spoil her rotten and talk to her like an actual child. Sure, I post pictures of my cat on Facebook and Instagram all the time. But guess what? That doesn't make me some anti-social loner who's going to turn into this woman in 40 years.

Women like that ruined it for the rest of us. Seriously - even one of the veterinarians gave me that "Oh - you're one of those women" look when I brought Cleo in to get vaccinated and mentioned it was because I was getting a second cat. No, I'm not one of those women. I have a fully-developed set of social skills that allow me to have a fulfilling social life outside my apartment. Two cats is my limit, not 50. I'm offering a warm, loving home to two animals that would have otherwise been put to sleep because they didn't have one. I have the means to take care of them properly. I'm responsible enough to make sure my first cat is up to date on her vaccines before I bring the other one home. And for the love of all that is holy, I do not (and will not ever) own one of those flannel nightgowns!

Let's change the scenario for a second. Hypothetically, what if Cleo was a dog? What if I was adopting a second dog to keep my first one company? No one would call me a "Crazy Dog Lady" - they'd all "oooo" and "ahhh" and invite themselves over to meet said puppy. I'm not going to get into the whole Cats vs. Dogs thing right now - I'll save that for another post. But you get my point.

Cleo is one of the greatest joys of my life. If you own a pet (cat, dog, whatever) and don't feel that way about it, something is wrong. She makes me smile every day. She makes me laugh every day. If I've had a bad day, I can't always get a hug. But unlimited cuddles and unconditional love from Cleo always make me feel better.

So no, I won't apologize for loving my cat. I won't hang my head in shame for adopting another one. I am proud of being able to rescue these girls and give them the home and the love they deserve. Hopefully, Cleo and her little sister get along, otherwise my next post might have a decidedly different tone to it. Time to go find out!

"I'm getting a WHAT today?! What
exactly is a 'sister?' Is it like tuna?
Because then I'm in. All in."