Yesterday, we welcomed a new feline into the home, but I’m not sure who adopted whom. The new house cat, who is as yet unnamed, began showing up at our house nearly two years ago. The kids fed him. He came back.
For the last few years, he sat with me as I waited for my daughter to get home from school. He’s sat patiently in the rain and cold waiting for a bit of kibble. He’s chased butterflies in the yard, purred upon seeing us and hopped on our laps uninvited. A year ago, he started grooming me, a sure-fire sign he considered me kin.
I’ve listened to neighbors strolling past shout out “What a beautiful cat you have!” And he is a looker – a solid black with a shiny healthy coat and green eyes. For a long time, I shouted back “He’s beautiful, but he’s not mine.” I pumped them for information about who might be missing a cat too tame to call feral. I wondered where this cat called home, but he already knew.
A month ago my cat-allergic husband began testing the waters, accepting the affection the cat offered so freely. With his approval and a daily dose of Zyrtec, I took the cat to the vet to ensure his health before bringing him in.
There will be challenges ahead and plenty of hisses as he meets our two resident cats up close and personal after looking through windows at one another for months. I give it a week before the mutual grooming begins. This is a cat whose ever gesture and purr seems to say “thank you” and “what took you so long to realize you belong to me.”