One Friday afternoon last June, my Awesome Husband Greg went out to get the mail from the box. He thought he saw a squirrel sitting in the middle of the road. But he was wrong...What he saw was a tiny gray kitten, sitting in the center of the road, right between the two yellow lines.
Bravely risking life and limb, he stopped traffic with his one free hand (his other clutching our granddaughter, Charlie, whose life he was also risking).
...So I had written exactly one year ago today -- August 31, 2011, the day I decided to write about how we acquired Ella, the hapless little kitten. But somehow (the usual way, I suppose) I got distracted and never finished.
We still have Ella, who was really only hapless for a short time. That would be the time between whenever she was born, and that day last June when Greg rescued her from the middle of the road in front of our house. Since then, I guess you could say she's been very hap. She found Greg.
I didn't really want another cat. Greg tried to pretend he didn't, either. We made a few phone calls, "advertised" on facebook that we had found a kitten and would keep her for the weekend if anyone wanted her. I guess we were implying that if no one did, it was off to the pound (gasp!) on Monday. But I know us. We'd never do that.
Even so, we did still have this girl...
Cinder is 16 years old now. I, never really a cat lover, love this cat. Greg adores this cat. We almost lost her a couple of years ago, and I had a glimpse of how painful that loss was going to be -- for everyone. So when I saw how Greg held and fussed over that bedraggled little gray ball of fluff, I knew from that first afternoon that she was ours. He'll try to tell you that I convinced him to keep her, but I didn't. I simply got out of his way.
I will admit to having some regrets...
The reason I love Cinder is that she's really a dog who looks like a cat. She comes when you call her. She hangs around and socializes when company comes. She doesn't indulge in displeasing cat-like behaviors, like clawing the furniture or leaping onto tables and bookcases. She lets us use her as a pillow or a blanket -- sometimes even a mattress. She's generally very nice to have around.
I had forgotten what real kittens are like. Ella was a real kitten. And she's a real cat. Last Christmas, I relented to putting up a tree, against my better judgment -- fortunately, it remained standing, although a few ornaments took a topple -- but I refused to bring out my "good" red slipcover and quilts. I can think of few things more unnerving than the sound of a cat's claws plucking at fibers.
(I don't like the smell of their food, or their poop either, but that doesn't have to be part of this story.)
A year later, Ella is very different from that shy, grungy, runny-eyed, bug-infested little mite she was last year -- the one who would fall asleep in a Kleenex box on the back of the toilet. She's minus most of her tail, which we have logically deduced must have been run over when she parked it in the middle of the road. (After we'd had her a few days, it atrophied and began losing its fur.) But her coat is like beautifully striped velvet.
She's the kind of cat you want to hold. But you can't. She'll lie on her back at your feet and wriggle around enticingly, but don't fall for it -- she only wants you to reach for her so she can take a swipe. It's all part of her game.
Guests rarely see Ella. She prefers to hang out in the office in a box of stationery whenever anyone besides family is present.
Oh -- And did I mention that she's relentless in tormenting poor Cinder?
Yes, I knew there would be a transition period as our "girls" got used to each other, but how delusional was I to have imagined that Cinder would one day be glad that we'd brought her a young companion? What was I thinking? It's gone from bad to worse, with Ella becoming fearless of Cinder's hissing and boxing. She lies in wait, ready to jump on the old girl every chance she gets. Poor Cinder now pauses in doorways, afraid to walk into a room for fear of being ambushed -- something she shouldn't have to endure in her golden years. Cinder, I am so sorry...
So I'm having difficulty finding things to love about Ella -- except for her striking good looks. But she's here to stay. Greg has plenty of room in his heart for a cat like Ella. Just like he did for Cinder. And probably as many more as he might be allowed to have, but we're not even going to go there.
I'm just glad he consented to her name (suggested by dear facebook friend, Patricia Thomas Blevins). You did you pick up on that, didn't you? Cinder...Ella? (Greg had wanted to call her R.K., short for Road Kill. Glad he let me win that one!)
2 comments:
Kate, this is great writing, and a wonderful story. Lucky Ella! Lucky Cinder, too, to have such a long, secure life in your home. Thanks for sharing!
Thank you, Cindy -- They're both lucky they have Greg!
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