I Exist, And....

And now for the most cliched blogpost: I exist, and I have a cat. After my Tuesday bike ride past the window of the ASPCA, I came home and went to bed, where I dreamt about the sad kitty I'd seen in the window. Taking that as a sign, last night I returned. Window Kitty was on "behavioral hold", unavailable for adoption for the time being, for reasons she demonstrated to me immediately.

However, as these things happen, I noticed a tiny cat sitting alone in an isolation booth. "Oh, she's not a kitten," I was told. "She's over a year old, actually. " I said, "Oh, is she one of those dwarf cats? Her legs are so short!" The staffer said, "Oh, no, she's a Dilute Calico. She just happens to very small. I think she weighs 3 or 4 pounds. She's been with us for a long time because she's FIV+."

And that was that, wasn't it, gentle readers? After a rather rigorous interview, in which the staff actually called two of my references, I was in a taxi with a tiny, timid cat the shelter had uncreatively named "Little Grey". I kept her in the bathroom overnight, to keep her calm, where she purred like a little monster, rubbed all over me, but was otherwise quite skittish, resistant to being held or picked up.

I let her out this morning and she promptly attempted to climb up my chimney. Luckily, I got to her just before she was out of reach, then I shoved a pillow up the fireplace to keep from trying that route of escape again. I'll get a better picture of her soon, right now even the camera's shutter noise makes her flinch. Right now, she's under the bed (which she can walk under without ducking her head), but she will come out for moment to be petted.

So I've got my work cut out for me getting this kitty socialized. I've never had a female cat, all my cats have been ginormous males, like last month's houseguest, the 21-lb Maine Coon (we think) that I abandoned with my ex when I moved to San Francisco in 1995. The first task, however, is getting her renamed. I'm open to all suggestions (should this have been an Open Thread Thursday?), but I typically don't like traditional pet names like Scamper or Mittens. In fact, my first cat as an adult was named BVBD (buh-vih-buh-duh), which seemed really funny in 1980. I also don't care for grandiose names like Anastasia du Bon Marche' (sorry, Allen!). I remember somebody naming their weiner dog Glenn Harris Milstead Jr. (Divine's real name), and that always made me laugh.