The story about Amy and cats goes something like this:
Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Amy. She never had much interaction with cats, other than the pair her uncle owned – Ginny and Lacey. Lacey, a petite, shorthair, gray cat, was known for being temperamental. Amy stayed away from her and instead spent time petting Ginny, a mottled, brown-and-orange, longhair cat with a gentle demeanor. All was well, until the day Ginny unexpectedly hissed and swatted at then 7-year-old Amy.
That was when Amy got scared of cats.
She held onto that fear until she was in college. Her then-beau adopted a Siamese kitten no bigger than a guinea pig. The little kitten, named Shai, would often sleep in Amy’s clogs. As much as Amy resisted, she eventually fell in love with Shai.
When Amy and this fellow parted ways, Amy was surprised to realize how much she missed having a cat around the house. On one day, when she was feeling particularly lonely, she decided to visit the Humane Society – just to look, not to buy, she told herself.
Enter Emmett – the sleek, black, part-Siamese cat that is convinced he’s a dog. He plays fetch, tears around the house at a gallop and swats other cats in the head when they annoy him.
Amy had owned Emmett for a few years when she stumbled across another cat. She was walking into work when a chubby tabby cat crossed her path. She petted him and wished him well as she walked into the office. Eight or so hours later, when she left work for the day, she again saw the cat outside. Amy opened her car door, muttered, “OK, get in,” and that was that. A thorough search for the cat’s owner turned up nothing, and Lucas officially moved into Amy’s house.
Not long afterward, Amy moved in with another beau who owned a cat, Tina. The 5-pound longhair feline was skittish and antisocial, mostly from being raised in a household of single, 20-something men who prioritized video games and pizza over caring for pets. About two years later, the beau moved out. Tina stayed.
And then there were three.
It’s a generally accepted fact that three cats is the maximum number of felines any single gal can own without being – quite fairly – labeled crazy. It’s also a fact that the more cats a single gal owns, the less likely it becomes that she will ever get married. (I’m pretty sure there’s a math equation to prove this.) That is why Amy’s latest feline encounter has left her in quite a predicament.
On Monday morning, Amy was leaving her house for work as usual when she heard an urgent “meooooooooooooooooow!” A kitten that did not belong to the neighbor was sitting in the neighbor’s yard. This scrawny calico proved friendly and hungry. And, when it walked into the house uninvited, Amy assumed it also was looking for a place to live. This was confirmed when Amy found the kitten’s owner; she did not want the cat back.
Amy took the kitten to the vet for a checkup and shots. She is spayed, declawed and the picture of a healthy kitten. And she snores.
Now, it seems, Amy has four cats.
If you are in a position to give a kitten a safe, loving home, contact Amy at firstname.lastname@example.org. If not, Amy requests that you at least refrain from calling her a batty, cat-owning spinster when you see her next.