On Friday, Alisa, Becca, and I went to the Philly SPCA and adopted a 3–5 year old cat. Her name, the one we gave her, is Leto (get the backstory on her name at Wikipedia). She’s small and grey and very shy, or perhaps afraid. It’s hard to tell, since she spends most of her time avoiding us or eyeing us up from afar. And apparently that’s the norm, as much as there is a norm.
Well, Alisa and I deal with this situation in very different ways, which makes sense, considering that she was the real motivator for getting a cat in the first place. I pretty much ignore Leto. She skitters by or edges around the couch and I glance up at her and continue doing whatever I’m doing. It’s not as though I don’t want her to hop up next to me and start discussing typesetting, or just sit there and purr. I do. But, I don’t expect it, or need it, and this is the important part. Alisa, on the other hand, radiates intense need, supernova levels of desire and longing for the least bit of acknowledgement, of progress.
And I think Leto knows this.
Like most cats, I’m betting Leto likes the warm rays of the Sun, and right now Alisa is sending off more intense UV-love than a tanning salon in Pittsburgh. What does Leto have to lose? Alisa is, on Day 4, slowly constructing a kind of cat-playground in the area of Leto’s ’safe place’ in our kitchen, which is under a chair in a pet bed. Included in this pet playland is a second bed-like area. For Alisa. To lay in. Near Leto.
Can you feel the heat? Leto: 4, Alisa: 0
Anyway, my theory is that cats give Alisa a degree of attention inversely proportional to the amount she bathes them in. And, thus far, cats seem to give Alisa as much regard as I give teen dramas. In fact, Leto is so good at this little game, I decided to show you some pictures of her around the house, to give you an idea of life with our new family member.
From what I can tell, having a cat is a lot like owning bottomless food and water dishes, along with a sandbox that magically fills with crap. Not sure what all the fuss is about…