All That Jazz

Throughout my entire childhood, I never had a single pet.  That can happen, pretty easily, when your dad is allergic to cat and dog hair.  Right there, most of the typical animals are ruled out, and you’d have to imagine that any more obscure mammals would induce a similar reaction.  So you start to look a little lower on the food chain.  My brother had a few gerbils at various times, and my sister currently keeps a rather charming rat, but I never really had much interest in the rodents.  There were also the times we kept Praying Mantises, and the Madagascar Hissing Cockroach, but it’s hard to really make a connection with an insect.

When I was in my pre-teen years, I decided that I wanted an aquarium.  There was no way fish could bother my Dad’s allergy, and I figured a few fish would be pretty interesting to have.  I asked for an aquarium for my birthday, and I distinctly recall making a sign that said “Aquarium coming soon!” but for some reason or another it never happened.  Not sure if it was concern with water spills, fishy smells, me being responsible enough, or something else, but regardless, I didn’t end up having a fish.  Or any other pet, for that matter.

After Stacia and I met, that didn’t change, initially.  Living in the dorms, or in a college-town apartment just didn’t seem conducive to keeping an animal, and I personally didn’t have any fond memories to hearken back to, to make me want one.  Things started to change one time while we were visiting Edgewood, Stacia’s hometown.  We were spending some time out on her Dad’s land, where there were some cats roaming around.  (Apparently this is commonplace on farms – non-pet cats just roam about the place, fending for themselves and whatnot.  I know, I had no idea either.)

Well, this really cute farm cat wandered up and started acting like he/she (?) wanted attention, so I started petting it, and eventually picked it up and held it in my lap.  He/she purred and acted so sweet and content, that Stacia’s Dad offered to send the cat home with us.  Aside from the fact that we didn’t know anything about it (health, spay/neuter, pests, etc), we also decided we weren’t ready to keep a pet.  We declined, but the seed had been planted.  Over the next several months, we made surprisingly frequent trips to the local pet store to look at the adorable kittens, and I started to come around to the idea.

We did all our internet research on keeping cats, and decided we should adopt one from the Animal Rescue League.  We even made a spreadsheet of all the cats at the ARL, to help us choose.  Then, over the long Labor Day weekend (1 year, 4 months ago, making this a very dated article), we stopped by to see a calico cat named Ivy, and fell for her.  She was so timid, even hiding beneath the shelves at the store when we let her out, but very cute.  We filled out the paperwork and took her home.

It soon became clear that Ivy wasn’t really a fitting name for this cat.  We got her home, let her out of the carrier, and allowed her to become accustomed to her new home.  Unlike the shy, reserved cat she had been at the ARL, she methodically stalked through the rooms of the condo, acquainting herself with everything without any fear or significant hesitation.  That first night she did keep us up a bit with some yowling and meowing, but thankfully it didn’t last too long.  Soon, demure little Ivy was a thing of the past.

In short order, our cat was transformed into an assertive and confident but fun and kind of crazy little animal who knew that she was the real head of the household.  For a while we struggled with an appropriate name, but ended up hitting the nail on the head.  Roxie, the spunky, poised entertainer from Chicago would be our cat’s namesake.  Our Roxie is fun, but definitely doesn’t take crap from anybody.  And she certainly is entertaining.  She’s a great cat that makes me glad we got a pet.

One small problem.  Our little girl has recently become, well, not so little.  It’s one of those things where, if you see something every day, you don’t notice small changes, but someone who only sees it at larger intervals sees the change right away.  For example, I never know my hair is getting long, since it grows so little each day that it seems the same as the last day.  But all I need to do is go home ;) and someone will surely point out how shaggy I’ve become.  In a similar manner, Roxie put on 4 pounds in a year.

When we found this out, we made some quick changes to try to reverse the trend.  We started decreasing the amount of food Roxie got, then all-out switched to a weight-loss food, but nothing seemed to work.  She maintained her weight, didn’t get any bigger, but she couldn’t seem to work off what she’d gained.  What to do?  Well, we knew she was pretty lazy during the day, just sleeping and eating, and we don’t always have time to play with her as much as we should in the evening, so she probably wasn’t getting a ton of exercise.  But we could change that… with a kitty treadmill!

Just kidding.  I hope those don’t exist, but you never know.  In reality, the solution to our cat problem is to get another cat!  With someone new to play with, Roxie should theoretically be more active during the day, and if nothing else, she’ll have more stimulation and company while we’re gone.  As I write this, we are getting ready to head out to the ARL to bring home the little black-and-white cat we’ve had our eye on.  Her name is Rachel, but we’re going to call her Velma.  I think the show will be better with two.