Batovan
Friday morning when I got up, I had eight cats. I fed them, changed their water, cleaned their boxes while I swore at them for being vile & having bad aim (that conversation goes something like this: "Your asses are a tenth the size of mine but you can't hit a 2 foot by 1 foot plastic box? I could fit MY ass in there & do better!" Do they care? No.)
If someone had told me that by the end of the day I'd be so worked up about yet another cat that I was on the verge of tears, I would've told them they were off-their-asses-straight-up CRAZY.
But. That's what happened.
At home in my collection of cats I have Vincent. He is about 13 now. He rules the house with an impossibly soft, fuzzy & clawless (he came to us declawed) iron paw. Our 100 pound shepherd mix dog, Turkish, is absolutely terrified of him and the other cats are careful to watch his mood and get out of his way if they get "The Look". Scott & I absolutely adore him. Vince is one of those anomalies in the cat world - a white, long-haired, blue-eyed cat. And, as is the case with many white cats with blue or odd eyes, he's deaf. "Why is the dog scared of him?" people have asked. It's because Vince will launch himself at the dog, usually for no good reason other than that the dog is within a 3 foot radius, spitting & yowling with fury and smacks the dog repeatedly in his hollow head with his fat hairy paws while the dog attempts to flee. He's actually pissed himself with fear before. I didn't say he was a brave dog!
Vince, tho' he likes Scott & will let him tote him around, is, without a doubt, my cat. He follows me around like a psychotic & loyal white dog, sleeps on my pillow at night and let's me do just about anything with him inc. lifting him over my head like a dumbbell. He prefers to play with me, esp. hide & seek, and does not think he's a cat. Scott & I had both decided that if we ever ran across another male deaf white cat, we'd take him in a heartbeat.
On Friday night, on my way home from work, I planned to stop at the grocery. Thinking I could beat the other drivers in the lane I needed, I positioned myself in the left turn lane. No good. And, I wasn't going to be that asshole - the one that is in the wrong lane & then cuts over in front of everyone causing horns to blare & fingers to wave. I sucked it up, decided that since I was now headed that way anyway, I might as well go to Petsmart & pick up a bag of litter.
Petsmart has a section in their store where they offer pets from the local Humane Society for adoption. I always pass by to see what's there, to depress myself, but mostly to see, if on the off chance, there's a young white cat........
I'm not a religious person, but whatever gods may be were with me that night, saying, "Sure! You can beat those people, dumbass! Just give it a try! You know the Goat is as slow as a slug, but YEAH - get in the left lane!" knowing that I would go to Petsmart. Because these gods must be my own personal ones & they know things that I don't but should.
Even tho' I had passed by those cages earlier in the week, I walked by again. And there he was. I saw the longhaired white cat snoozing in the big cage & stared at him. I read the little info card taped to the cage. The name was "Batovan" - odd. Male, 6 months old, "a very special boy will fill your home with love & know no fear." That sentence alone choked me up - we always talk about how most of our cats are fearless because they've never known anything they should fear. The card also went on to note that he was deaf & was being fostered by someone who worked there that had Final Approval on the adopter. I stared at the kitty some more. He woke up, yawned, and fixed his beautiful blue gaze on me & stood up with a friendly "meow" & strolled to the front of the cage. My heart filled up to the point of explosion & I told him not to move while I went on the search for an employee. I tracked one down, a highschool kid with glasses & curly hair. I told him that I HAD to see that cat. He apologized & said that the adoption center closes at 7. It was 7:07. I blinked at him, willed him to forget about 7 minutes. Then I tried batting my eyes *gag* and a flirtatious smile *gag* and saying please. Presto.
He led me into the visitation room & got little Batovan (what the hell did that mean, anyway?) out & handed me the soft ball of fuzz. I sat down on the bench & talked to the little kitty - even tho' they can't hear, I always fancy the vibrations mean something to them. He purred. He stretched out, back feet on my belly, front feet on my chest, and reached out to touch my face with a dainty paw. I looked at the kid, "How do I go about this adoption process?" He blathered on something about background checks & that the woman, Pat, got the final approval, I nodded, petted the kitty, and made up my mind. I stayed with Batovan while the kid cleaned cages & fed the other charges. I called Scott while Batovan meowed at me from inside his cage. Scott listened to the "there's a cat" thing with a doubting grunt (not that I truly cared about his opinion at that point) then when I told him what the cat was, he perked up. Good boy. I went up front to the cashier to buy my litter. I was delighted to see that the woman that's always there & knows me enough to banter was working the register. I announced, "That little white cat back there? I MUST have him." She told me exactly what I needed to know, "You need to talk to Pat. She's here in the morning - you could call!" I said, "Even better - I'll come in. What time does she work?" She told me.
On the way home I thought about the cat. What the hell kind of name was Batovan anyway? Not literary - surely I'd get that. Something to do with Star Wars? A surname? What? Then, phonics hit me. Beethoven. Ah. Deaf cat, deaf composer. Someone apparently knew their trivia but didn't know how to spell.
At 10 am Saturday morning I was in the store standing in front of Pat. She asked me many questions, started to go into the spiel about deaf cats needing special care when I pulled my trump card. Vincent. She looked at me, her eyes getting big, and said, "So you know how to deal with deaf cats? You'll never let him outside? Is your dog aggressive?" To which I replied, "Nope - in fact, he's petrified of the white cat." She smiled at this & told me she had another girl who was interested in him, but if that girl didn't take him by the end of the day, he was back up for adoption. My heart plummeted. Who could resist him? She also wanted me to fill out an adoption application just in case, and handed me off to another woman while she continued with her work. The new woman led me to the back & let Batoven out again while we did the application. My stomach was spinning, I was actually getting an ulcer right there. I filled in the app, put my number down, and told them both I really hoped I'd hear from them. I could tell the second woman was really rooting for me. I went on to Mom's since we were doing a little mother/daughter bonding day, but I was sick. I had to have that cat. He was mine, I could feel it in my gut. If he wasn't, I was sure my heart would break & it would be a miserable weekend.
I arrived at Mom's, visited with her kitty clan & looked at things (she always has things to "show me") and we set out in her car. I checked my phone. A Springfield number had called. I tried to call it back but it was a fax line. We went back to Mom's to get the phonebook & I called Petsmart & asked for Pat. "Hello Pat, this is Renee - did you try to reach me?" I was certain she was going to tell me that this other chick was there & had taken him. Instead she said, "Yes. If you want Batoven, he's yours." I nearly choked - I almost cried anyways! What the hell was wrong with me? "I want him!!!! I will be there to get him! Thank you thank you thank you!" I gushed. I told her I was spending the day with my mom & she said that that was fine, that she would say her goodbyes to him & we could pick him up later on.
Scott & I cruised back into the city that night. I had left the cat carrier in the truck from my hopeful loading of it that morning. We got into the store, I pointed out the cat to Scott, he was pleased. While I was filling out the adoption paperwork - I didn't realize that adopting a cat required so much - Scott poked his finger in the cage & cooed at the cat. He was smitten, too. I didn't want to ask about the other applicant & I didn't have to. The woman that led me thru the process was a manager. She said she knew the other girl who was interested in him & that Pat was hesitant in the first place to let the girl have him, and when I came in, Pat knew she had the right person & felt much more comfortable placing him with me. I beamed inwardly. Then, little Batoven was scooted into the carrier, Scott carried him outside & fretted about the wind blowing on him. We placed our new kitty carefully in the truck and set out for home. And immediately turned around & went back when we realized we had forgotten the bag of food Pat wanted to send home with him.
Once home, he was introduced to the other critters - basically, left in the carrier while all the other animals stared at him like a zoo animal. He didn't care in the least. He was going to fit right in.
Sure enough, we let him out & he started terrorizing the other cats. Our Siamese, Miguel, ever the Goodwill Ambassador, took to him right away & invited him to play. We got some good laughs out of this as little "Batoven" threw himself at Miguel flying-squirrel style, sending both cats tumbling across the floor in a cotton & toffee swirl. Also, he was quite taken with the dog & followed him everywhere much to Turk's dismay, swatting at Turk's super-fluffy tail & trying to headbutt his nose. Turk wasn't sure what to make of it - it was almost like we could see him looking at his nemesis, Vincent, and then at this outgoing little guy who came trotting after him with his tail up, so similar in appearance yet totally opposite in behaviour and wondering, "What the hell?".
Also, we've been going through a slew of names to see what fits. Even toying with various pronunciations on Batovan. I have a feeling he'll remain nameless for at least a short while!
When we're not in the house, I've been leaving him in our office with his toys & other necessities of kitty life. I had to leave him this morning after carrying him around for a while & felt terrible about it. He's a social little creature but I don't want him left at Vincent's mercy just yet....
I can't wait to see him tonight! I'm so excited! And very much in love.....
And I'm going to have to get another damn litterbox!
If someone had told me that by the end of the day I'd be so worked up about yet another cat that I was on the verge of tears, I would've told them they were off-their-asses-straight-up CRAZY.
But. That's what happened.
At home in my collection of cats I have Vincent. He is about 13 now. He rules the house with an impossibly soft, fuzzy & clawless (he came to us declawed) iron paw. Our 100 pound shepherd mix dog, Turkish, is absolutely terrified of him and the other cats are careful to watch his mood and get out of his way if they get "The Look". Scott & I absolutely adore him. Vince is one of those anomalies in the cat world - a white, long-haired, blue-eyed cat. And, as is the case with many white cats with blue or odd eyes, he's deaf. "Why is the dog scared of him?" people have asked. It's because Vince will launch himself at the dog, usually for no good reason other than that the dog is within a 3 foot radius, spitting & yowling with fury and smacks the dog repeatedly in his hollow head with his fat hairy paws while the dog attempts to flee. He's actually pissed himself with fear before. I didn't say he was a brave dog!
Vince, tho' he likes Scott & will let him tote him around, is, without a doubt, my cat. He follows me around like a psychotic & loyal white dog, sleeps on my pillow at night and let's me do just about anything with him inc. lifting him over my head like a dumbbell. He prefers to play with me, esp. hide & seek, and does not think he's a cat. Scott & I had both decided that if we ever ran across another male deaf white cat, we'd take him in a heartbeat.
On Friday night, on my way home from work, I planned to stop at the grocery. Thinking I could beat the other drivers in the lane I needed, I positioned myself in the left turn lane. No good. And, I wasn't going to be that asshole - the one that is in the wrong lane & then cuts over in front of everyone causing horns to blare & fingers to wave. I sucked it up, decided that since I was now headed that way anyway, I might as well go to Petsmart & pick up a bag of litter.
Petsmart has a section in their store where they offer pets from the local Humane Society for adoption. I always pass by to see what's there, to depress myself, but mostly to see, if on the off chance, there's a young white cat........
I'm not a religious person, but whatever gods may be were with me that night, saying, "Sure! You can beat those people, dumbass! Just give it a try! You know the Goat is as slow as a slug, but YEAH - get in the left lane!" knowing that I would go to Petsmart. Because these gods must be my own personal ones & they know things that I don't but should.
Even tho' I had passed by those cages earlier in the week, I walked by again. And there he was. I saw the longhaired white cat snoozing in the big cage & stared at him. I read the little info card taped to the cage. The name was "Batovan" - odd. Male, 6 months old, "a very special boy will fill your home with love & know no fear." That sentence alone choked me up - we always talk about how most of our cats are fearless because they've never known anything they should fear. The card also went on to note that he was deaf & was being fostered by someone who worked there that had Final Approval on the adopter. I stared at the kitty some more. He woke up, yawned, and fixed his beautiful blue gaze on me & stood up with a friendly "meow" & strolled to the front of the cage. My heart filled up to the point of explosion & I told him not to move while I went on the search for an employee. I tracked one down, a highschool kid with glasses & curly hair. I told him that I HAD to see that cat. He apologized & said that the adoption center closes at 7. It was 7:07. I blinked at him, willed him to forget about 7 minutes. Then I tried batting my eyes *gag* and a flirtatious smile *gag* and saying please. Presto.
He led me into the visitation room & got little Batovan (what the hell did that mean, anyway?) out & handed me the soft ball of fuzz. I sat down on the bench & talked to the little kitty - even tho' they can't hear, I always fancy the vibrations mean something to them. He purred. He stretched out, back feet on my belly, front feet on my chest, and reached out to touch my face with a dainty paw. I looked at the kid, "How do I go about this adoption process?" He blathered on something about background checks & that the woman, Pat, got the final approval, I nodded, petted the kitty, and made up my mind. I stayed with Batovan while the kid cleaned cages & fed the other charges. I called Scott while Batovan meowed at me from inside his cage. Scott listened to the "there's a cat" thing with a doubting grunt (not that I truly cared about his opinion at that point) then when I told him what the cat was, he perked up. Good boy. I went up front to the cashier to buy my litter. I was delighted to see that the woman that's always there & knows me enough to banter was working the register. I announced, "That little white cat back there? I MUST have him." She told me exactly what I needed to know, "You need to talk to Pat. She's here in the morning - you could call!" I said, "Even better - I'll come in. What time does she work?" She told me.
On the way home I thought about the cat. What the hell kind of name was Batovan anyway? Not literary - surely I'd get that. Something to do with Star Wars? A surname? What? Then, phonics hit me. Beethoven. Ah. Deaf cat, deaf composer. Someone apparently knew their trivia but didn't know how to spell.
At 10 am Saturday morning I was in the store standing in front of Pat. She asked me many questions, started to go into the spiel about deaf cats needing special care when I pulled my trump card. Vincent. She looked at me, her eyes getting big, and said, "So you know how to deal with deaf cats? You'll never let him outside? Is your dog aggressive?" To which I replied, "Nope - in fact, he's petrified of the white cat." She smiled at this & told me she had another girl who was interested in him, but if that girl didn't take him by the end of the day, he was back up for adoption. My heart plummeted. Who could resist him? She also wanted me to fill out an adoption application just in case, and handed me off to another woman while she continued with her work. The new woman led me to the back & let Batoven out again while we did the application. My stomach was spinning, I was actually getting an ulcer right there. I filled in the app, put my number down, and told them both I really hoped I'd hear from them. I could tell the second woman was really rooting for me. I went on to Mom's since we were doing a little mother/daughter bonding day, but I was sick. I had to have that cat. He was mine, I could feel it in my gut. If he wasn't, I was sure my heart would break & it would be a miserable weekend.
I arrived at Mom's, visited with her kitty clan & looked at things (she always has things to "show me") and we set out in her car. I checked my phone. A Springfield number had called. I tried to call it back but it was a fax line. We went back to Mom's to get the phonebook & I called Petsmart & asked for Pat. "Hello Pat, this is Renee - did you try to reach me?" I was certain she was going to tell me that this other chick was there & had taken him. Instead she said, "Yes. If you want Batoven, he's yours." I nearly choked - I almost cried anyways! What the hell was wrong with me? "I want him!!!! I will be there to get him! Thank you thank you thank you!" I gushed. I told her I was spending the day with my mom & she said that that was fine, that she would say her goodbyes to him & we could pick him up later on.
Scott & I cruised back into the city that night. I had left the cat carrier in the truck from my hopeful loading of it that morning. We got into the store, I pointed out the cat to Scott, he was pleased. While I was filling out the adoption paperwork - I didn't realize that adopting a cat required so much - Scott poked his finger in the cage & cooed at the cat. He was smitten, too. I didn't want to ask about the other applicant & I didn't have to. The woman that led me thru the process was a manager. She said she knew the other girl who was interested in him & that Pat was hesitant in the first place to let the girl have him, and when I came in, Pat knew she had the right person & felt much more comfortable placing him with me. I beamed inwardly. Then, little Batoven was scooted into the carrier, Scott carried him outside & fretted about the wind blowing on him. We placed our new kitty carefully in the truck and set out for home. And immediately turned around & went back when we realized we had forgotten the bag of food Pat wanted to send home with him.
Once home, he was introduced to the other critters - basically, left in the carrier while all the other animals stared at him like a zoo animal. He didn't care in the least. He was going to fit right in.
Sure enough, we let him out & he started terrorizing the other cats. Our Siamese, Miguel, ever the Goodwill Ambassador, took to him right away & invited him to play. We got some good laughs out of this as little "Batoven" threw himself at Miguel flying-squirrel style, sending both cats tumbling across the floor in a cotton & toffee swirl. Also, he was quite taken with the dog & followed him everywhere much to Turk's dismay, swatting at Turk's super-fluffy tail & trying to headbutt his nose. Turk wasn't sure what to make of it - it was almost like we could see him looking at his nemesis, Vincent, and then at this outgoing little guy who came trotting after him with his tail up, so similar in appearance yet totally opposite in behaviour and wondering, "What the hell?".
Also, we've been going through a slew of names to see what fits. Even toying with various pronunciations on Batovan. I have a feeling he'll remain nameless for at least a short while!
When we're not in the house, I've been leaving him in our office with his toys & other necessities of kitty life. I had to leave him this morning after carrying him around for a while & felt terrible about it. He's a social little creature but I don't want him left at Vincent's mercy just yet....
I can't wait to see him tonight! I'm so excited! And very much in love.....
And I'm going to have to get another damn litterbox!
posted by RCSure | 10:37 AM
2 Comments:
Thanks much! This is the last one for awhile. Can't move into the double digits otherwise I'm bordering on Crazy Cat Lady territory! So, we'll have to wait for a couple to kick the bucket before the next Siamese....
So - I knew you had the 5 inside, but now 5 OUTSIDE? Egad! You must be going batty! Good luck on finding homes for them... as you can see - I'm fresh outta spots!
But.... how bout the Temptress? She only has a couple, right? Surely she needs another... :)
i suppose you have seen the pic of lola on my blog, fatty fatty 2 x 4, she was a rescue from a dumpster, oddly enough, she hears. your post has inspired me tho, perhaps i was just looking for the wrong type of animal, maybe we need a kitten?!?! i might get kicked out.
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