There’s something neat about bringing home a new kitten, almost as magical as the aroma that oozes all around you when you bring home a brand new car.
I brought Emma home on a cold November night four years ago, a gift from my friend Kim who had rescued her from a Pet Store cage. We didn’t know how old this little tabby cat was, probably five or six months, but she was lively enough and seemed to have a gentle temperament and she immediately charmed my pants off. When we got home, I setup a few things Kim had provided me — Emma’s litter box, water dish and so on. I tried to make Emma as comfortable as possible, but it was obvious she was having a bit of trouble getting oriented to her new surroundings. There wasn’t much I could do about that, but I hoped she’d survive the night and we could spend more time in the morning getting to know each other better.
When I got up the next morning, she was no where to be found. I checked everywhere. Under the bed and sofa, all throughout my office, in the bathtub … even checked out the hallway of my apartment building until it dawned on me that no matter how strong she was, there ain’t no way a little ball of fur was going to get that door opened. Duh!
I finally found her huddled in the dark recesses of one of the kitchen cupboards that had a broken door (one of the many repair projects I hadn’t got around to), which gave her access to the back corner between an old frying pan and a bag of sponges. With relief, I finally lured her out with a handful of kitty num-nums and we started the process of getting to know each other. Fortunately, that didn’t take too long. There’s something about being the hand that feeds them that will get a kitten’s affection in no time at all.
I learned quickly that a kitten has a lot of energy and if you don’t provide an outlet for it, they will find one of their own. She was quick to discover a cork board I had leaning against my computer desk and before I knew it, she had claimed it for her own, turning it into a massive pile of rubble, cork droppings everywhere, until I had to hide it in the closet. So I went out and bought her some expensive cat toys, some of which she liked, but many of which she lost interest in very quickly. I discovered that a lot of everyday articles were just as effective as expensive toys. A rolled up sheet of aluminum foil was just as much fun to knock around as those little fake mice that cost a couple of bucks each. Her favorite all time plaything turned out to be a big empty cardboard box filled with styro foam packing that I hadn’t got around to throwing away after I got a new TV. She loves jumping into the box and dissecting bits of white foam into oblivion and the side of the box has become as scarred as that poor cork board that I finally brought back out for her scratching pleasure.
As is the nature of cats, Emma spends lots of time licking her fur, which is nice because giving a cat a bath is not an experience any normal human being should ever have to live through. I do give her a good brushing from time to time, but since she’s an American Shorthaired tabby cat, there isn’t the constant requirement as would be the case with longhaired cats. She’s never had a major problem with hairballs, which is one thing to consider if you’re trying to decide between a shorthaired or longhaired cat.
Another thing I decided early on was that Emma would eat when I ate. That way I wouldn’t have her hanging around the dinner table while I ate since she’d be preoccupied with her own grub. This is an absolute rule and it’s worked out very well since now she never, for the most part, bothers me for food before the appointed time. I usually knock off work at the computer about 4:00 o’clock, do some reading for a half hour or so, have a quick cat nap and then by 5:00 o’clock it’s time to get dinner for both of us. Sometimes, of course, Emma’s timing is off by an hour or so. When that happens, she can be relentless, but absolute rules are absolute rules, so I just keep on working.
On those days, usually around 3:00 or 3:30, she jumps up and plops her butt directly on my keyboard or mouse and it’s quite clear that she is on a mission. The thing is, this is a battle she will never win no matter how sweetly she rubs her forehead against mine. I can work quite well with a top-heavy mouse, although typing can get a bit ticklish at times since, as we all know, cats and mice don’t usually get along very well. Slap a human hand in between the two and it can get a bit dicey. And like I said, at 3:45 I usually knock off work and you know, one day last week I’d worked so hard, I just had to knock off work at 3:33 I was so, ah, hungry … and one day next week I’m planning a special 3:00 dinner at noon … sigh.
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Glenn Cutforth is a writer, eBook publisher and graphic designer.
Visit his websites at: The Complete Cat and How To Classics.com
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Tabby Cats: 2006 Wall Calendar
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