Wednesday, September 26, 2012
when the last thing I wanted was a scrawny skritchy cat.
At the time, I was totally in love with Wilma, a gorgeous angora that was living with my friend Lee, who decided one afternoon that she was going on some kind of errand of mercy at the local animal shelter. And I got conscripted to go along.
Once there, I ran straight into what the shelter people called "the kitten room" with its huge glass window, where all the cute little balls of fur were cavorting, and soon as I saw them I sat on the floor and began to play with all of them.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted this skinny black one in the doorway, yowling and staring straight at me. Merlin was way past the kitten stage where most folks would likely adopt her. She was no Wilma.
But man, she was loud, and she was working it for all she was worth. Lee and some of the shelter people told me the cat had followed me into the kitten room, and I decided to check whether or not that was really true.
So I walked past this creature into another section of the shelter, and sure enough, I had a follower, louder than before and working it even harder. I spent the next several minutes going from one end of the building to the other, and yep, so did the cat, yowling and purring simultaneously. Talk about a major sales pitch. But I went home.
And the next day, went back to get her. I was right, she was no Wilma, she was Merlin, which is what she was yowling at me while she was following me around. It just took me a bit to hear it.
Merlin sits near me as I write, and to this day follows me wherever I go in the house, a six pound bit of fur with incredible self promotional skills that wow me to this day.
Amen, and pass the kibble.