Sunday, October 16, 2011

Playing Favorites

They say confession is good for the soul, and it seems I’ve been confessing some of my sins lately. Here’s another: among our furbabies, I have a favorite.

I love all our cats. Keke – even though she is J.’s cat – is my snuggle-buddy at bedtime. And having Bo in our home has been a wonderful challenge for all of us. But Monkey…he's my favorite.

Monkey was our first foster. He was born to a feral mama behind our house, and we kept an eye on their little family. Mama was tiny, and couldn’t keep all four babies nourished, even though we were feeding them, too. Over a few weeks, two of the babies died and one disappeared. We caught the last of the babies and brought him in, intending to socialize him and then make him available for adoption.

J. and I had never fostered before, so we kept him in a crate the first two nights. He cried non-stop, even though I stayed close and tried to soothe him. On the third morning, he’d lost his voice. He would move his mouth, but most of the time, no sound would come out. Occasionally, there would be a tiny, pitiful, precious squeak. After a visit to the vet and a bit of time to acclimate, we took him to two adoption events. He slept through both, and we joked that he’d never get adopted if he didn’t show off a little (like he did at home). We had named him Monkey; he would climb anything, and since he has the standard tabby “M” on his forehead, it seemed appropriate. We realized he just wasn’t going to show well at adoption events, and we were enjoying having a second cat, so we decided that his forever home was with us.

That was over a year ago. Monkey is 18 months old now, and has grown into the sweetest cat I’ve ever known. He got his voice back after a couple of months, and he is the most vocal of our cats. He still sleeps about 18 hours a day, and he plays like a crazy kitten the other six. That can be very entertaining, since he doesn’t seem to realize that he’s not a two-pound kitten anymore. Now, he’s a 17-pound Baby Huey. He romps around the house, driving his sisters crazy, and making me laugh.

I don’t know if Monkey will ever be a lap-cat, but he loves skritches. In the morning, he cries and cries until he gets petted. And he loves to have belly rubs when he’s sleeping; he’ll stretch out to his full length, then curl up tight around your hand. He's always sweet (and a little dumb). Monkey has only scratched J. or I a handful of times, and then only when he was overzealous during playtime or was very scared. Unlike Keke, he never uses his pointy-parts in anger. I'm not sure he would even know what to do if he were ever in a fight.

I know a mama shouldn’t have a favorite, but look at him…how could I not love him best???





2 comments:

RoseAnn said...

I confess...I also have a favorite but Robert and I rationalize that it works out because his favorite is the opposite. ;)

RoseAnn said...

I confess: my favorite is Rio and Robert's favorite is Ruby although they both get pretty well spoiled by both of us. ;)