This is our holiday weekend visitor, an appealing tiger cat that a friend found digging through her trash a few weeks ago. She took her in, sequestered her in a spare room so as not to traumatize her own, older cats, and made a valiant attempt to find her owner by calling the shelters, posting signs, and getting her scanned for a pet chip. The cat was skinny and very hungry but otherwise healthy, and interestingly, her front paws had been declawed. Someone had cared for her once but wasn't looking for her now.
When our friend went away for a long weekend over Christmas, we agreed to cat-sit with the option to keep. After spending five days with this anxious little cat, we don't think we can bear to send her away--especially knowing she might end up at a shelter. Other than an understandable fixation on her food dish (she meows and gets a little frantic if the center of the dish isn't covered with visible food), she's very friendly and seems to be settling in. She has even relaxed enough to play around with a catnip mouse. Right now as I type she's curled up on a pillow in the middle of the living room floor, the picture of contentment.
We haven't named her quite yet, perhaps still a bit hesitant since our beloved old cat's passing a little over a year ago to fully commit to a new creature in our house and our lives. We lose our hearts to these short-lived animals so easily, even though we know those hearts are going to be broken over and over.
Stray cat could be wild,
her pelt an ancient pattern.
Now she shares our house.
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