Friday the 13th

For many years I considered myself a dog person, and turned my nose up at the thought of ever living in the same house as a cat.  Then, after losing my best friend of 14 years (yes, a dog, named Sweetheart), I tried several different pets, but just wasn't making that connection I needed (and had moved into an apartment that did not allow dogs).  So, when a co-worker told me their barn cat had kittens (again) and she was looking for homes for them, I caved in.  That was the last time I thought I'd never have a cat, and it was 20 years ago.

Unfortunately, I've had to say goodbye to two wonderful furballs in those 20 years, but am grateful for the years I had with them, and for all they taught their staff of one.  They taught me so well that I don't think I'd last very long without a finicky feline running rampant through the house.

I had lost my 14 yr old Abyssinian Cleo, and was looking for another cat to keep my almost 2 year old Bandit company.  I had gone to the local Humane Society web page to look through the photos of cats available for adoption, and saw a beautiful grey male.  I figured he'd be adopted pretty quickly, but absolutely fell in love with him.  A few days later I went to the Humane Society, looking for him, but he wasn't there.  I assumed he'd been adopted (who wouldn't want this beautiful creature??), so it was off to PetsMart to see what pets they had available from the different local rescues.

I stopped at the one in my home town, but none of the cats (or kittens) tugged on the heartstrings, so it was off to the PetsMart closest to my apartment.  I stopped and played through the cage with a couple of the kittens, but even they didn't make that emotional connection.  Then, I turned the corner around that group of cages, and stopped dead in my tracks.  I almost gasped when I saw my boy all stretched out carefully watching what was going on around him.  I think I almost ran to find someone to help me (and I NEVER run).  The clerk took him out of the cage and let me hold him, and from that moment, I was his.  That was another Friday the 13th; one of the best days of my life, and definitely the best Friday the 13th ever.

It wasn't until we got home and I took a closer look at the paperwork that I realized this was the same cat I'd seen on the Humane Society web page.  I knew then beyond any shadow of a doubt that we were supposed to be together, and wasn't quite as worried about how this new guy was going to fit in with Bandit.  Sure enough, after a day or two of Bandit hissing, and the new guy hiding, they were playing, chasing, fighting, and grooming each other.  It was probably halfway through the first day that I decided on a name for the new boy.  Since I already had Bandit, the one name I refused to give him was Smokey (nope, not gonna have a Smokey and the Bandit!!).  The two boys are pretty much polar opposites, so since I had a Bandit, I figured the opposite would have to be some kind of famous police type figure.  Elliott or Ness just didn't fit, but all of a sudden, the perfect name came to me.  Pinkerton (as in the Pinkerton Detectives
Agency).

Since we moved from the apartment into the house, Pinkerton has become more social, although he's still very shy.  He's a very loving boy, but selective in showing it.  He's now comfortable showing affection to me, but takes a while to warm up to other people.  A couple of weeks ago I had an open house, and Pinkerton didn't hide in the family room or bedroom the entire time; he didn't beg for attention, but he did watch a lot of what was going on, if from a distance.

I still feel very special when Pinkerton comes up to me while I'm on the computer, puts his paws on my leg, and meows.  Usually he'll jump up on my shoulders and finally settle a little while I'm trying to type or play games.  But the head bumps and rubs I get from him are certainly special.  Bandit is so much more affectionate and demanding of attention that the little pat or head rub I might get every once in a while from Pinkerton seems like a treasure.  I love both of my boys, but seeing the trust Pinkerton is able to extend now to me, and just a little to visitors, is amazing.

The last photo of Pinkerton I'm going to share today is of him yawning.  If you're not used to seeing cats yawn, or haven't seen a picture of them in mid-yawn, you will probably be at the least startled.  It's a crazy look, and I often can't make up my mind if they're laughing at me through the yawn or threatening . . .

I couldn't resist this picture on Friday the 13th.  Not quite the cute and cuddly picture most people post of their pets.  But then again, I like to catch the unexpected or unusual . . .