Three Years After She Joined Us

One of my favorite photos ever taken by Mike ♥

Looking Forward to a New Year

Love and Best Wishes to You All  ♥

The Day Off I Needed

While the year's first snow here has been coming down, Mike, Crookshanks, and I have been nesting inside our little apartment. 'My first baked potato lunch in at least a year, a nap for Crookshanks nose-to-beak with her stuffed chick, chocolate chip cookies for me and Mike, a caramel-butterscotch candle ablaze, and new Christmas present books for me and Mike to begin reading from under blankets in our chairs soon.  January bliss! 

♥

Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time. ~ Maya Angelou

The green-eyed little clown in this picture has been the brightest spot of 2023 for me and Mike.  Meet Crookshanks, a character of a cat if ever there was one. She spent her first month here mostly living under the bed. When she began emerging into the hallway separating the living room from the bedroom, I set up a mirror on a living room bookshelf so I could see her as she started to make her way to the bedroom door and then into the hall.  "Shhhh, she's coming," I'd murmur to Mike, and he'd turn down the volume of the TV or music and we'd speak more softly so as not to scare her even more than she already was.  She ate out of my hand after two months. She made me wait three months before she allowed me to pet her. Mike had to wait five. It was eleven months--just last weekend--before she joined me while I sat in the wing chair, and she has yet to sit with Mike in his recliner, although we know her well enough now to trust that she will when she's ready.  

We had repeatedly seen her photo on the website of the same rescue from which we'd found Cubby, and Thanksgiving week of 2022, the rescue included a description of her that mentioned she was the kitten who had now been waiting for a home the longest.  Mike had just shaken his head as I read this aloud and said as if addressing an audience, "This is our next cat. Val wants this cat, she just doesn't realize it yet." And within minutes, I was, indeed, contacting the rescue to say we wanted her. The rescue had warned of behavioral challenges with her and had given her a temporary name that reflected that, so we knew going into it that we had our work cut out for us, but I wouldn't have been able to take in just any cat after what we'd gone through with Cubby:  I needed another "project" kind of cat, one who would require me to think and learn the way blind baby Cubby had.  (Dear old Stuffed was so easy!  ♥ We really had no idea how easy he was until we experienced the chaos little Cubby brought into our lives and then the extreme fear poor Crookshanks felt upon arrival.)  Crookshanks was the runt of her litter and had been found under a porch.

Unlike Cubby, who snuggled into both our chests and shoulders as soon as she was picked up to be held by each of us, Crookshanks made us earn her trust. We were hissed at who-knows-how-many-times the first few months and nipped at frequently, as well.  We kept trying, though, talking to her--even while she hid under the bed below us--offering her a variety of cozy beds and tempting treats and toys, reading aloud to her so she could get used to our voices--or at least, my voice; I don't think Mike ever tried the recommended-online idea to read aloud--tossing balls toward her when she'd appear at the end of the hallway to try to get her to play, and leaving our just-worn clothes on the floor so she could get used to our scent in addition to our voices.  After eleven months here, she now sleeps between us in bed, cuddles with a number of tiny stuffed animals--a Cardinal, a teddy bear, a chick, a bunny, a dozen mice--plays with her toys, chatters at us in various cat-speak sounds, and plops herself down beside us multiple times a day for back rubs and belly rubs. She makes us laugh at her antics all day every day. We often joke in her wilder moments that elder statesman Stuffed is probably watching from The Great Beyond and bemusedly muttering "Yeah, good luck with THAT!"--but she is also a dumpling of a cat who really just requires more than the usual amounts of patience and love.  

And although I realize that getting new cats after Stuffed does not betray him in any way, it also makes me feel good to think that Stuffed would like that the two cats we've brought home since him have been a blind, only-weeks-old, and not-even-two-pound kitten and a kitten with behavioral issues who still hadn't been adopted after six months. Cubby, having been rescued from a tree stump after her mother died, would certainly approve, as well.  In any case, this striped spitfire has our hearts and home now, and gaining her trust has been the highlight of our year. 

♥