This could possibly be the most poring blog post ever written. Today I did absolutely nothing worth writing about. I slept late, cleaned the bathroom, watched American Horror Story and Glee and was even too lazy to cook so I ordered lasagne and pizza rolls from a takeaway place.
Now I’m curling up in my comfy armchair with these two. Crazy Cat Lady, alright. As I’ve said before, I love my kittens like I would love my own children. So it’s only fair that they get a proper introduction here.
Sally is the older one. I got her right on the day when I moved into my own apartment six years ago. She’s about seven now and I can’t believe that in cat years, she’s nearing her midlife crisis. I got her from our local rescue shelter and when I adopted her, she was part of a duo. I named them Jack and Sally (yes, Tim Burton-inspired cat names are the best!). She’s a common white and grey tabby and if I’m fully honest, I was more in love with Jack then. He was a gorgeous black half-Persian with a stunning black coat but no flat face. But Sally was the one who chose me. She wouldn’t leave my side from day one, not even giving Jack a chance. They’d cuddle and play together but when it came to me, there would be no sharing. So, when during our first night in our new apartment the ceiling came down due to a burst pipe in the upstairs apartment and we had to move back to live with my mom for several weeks, Jack took his chance to fall in love with my mom. By the time we could move back, there was no question that he would stay and Sally and I would be girl roomies. Sadly, Jack died after only a year and we still don’t know what exactly was wrong with him.
Things went well between Sally and me but I have a full time job and she’s not allowed nor able to go out so I felt guilty. After much thinking and experimenting, I decided to get another cat. When I’d adopted Jack and Sally, they’d both been adult cats and I always said that I would want to adopt a kitten just once in my life. I don’t have a problem with adopting adult pets, in fact, I prefer that because I know there are so many of them waiting in rescue shelters all over the country. I just wanted to know what it’s like to raise a kitten once and since I’d already adopted two cats before, I figured I’d be allowed to take my chance now. Plus, Sally had been used to having things her way now, so I thought it may be better to get a young cat that we could raise to fit in. Oh, how wrong was I?!
Äffchen moved in and along came havoc and chaos! At the time, I hadn’t actually started looking for a kitten, yet. I knew I’d wanted one but it was sort of a “I’ll start looking next month”-kinda thing. Then a co-worker told me about a farmer near his home whose cat had had kittens and who had one left that he couldn’t get rid of so he was thinking of drowning it. Alarmed, I instantly said I’d take a look at the kitten but who knows me will know that in translation, this meant I’d take it no matter what it looked like or where it came from. I can appreciate beautiful pets but with my own, I really couldn’t care less about perfection. I’d take a beautiful Siamese and I’d take a three-legged tabby. In fact, Sally has one blind eye. It’s all milky and no one knows what happened to her. It gives her a peculiar look but I don’t even see it anymore. She’s just…Sally to me. So I didn’t even care what I’d find. What I was a crazy, hyper, freaky little black and brown bundle that would instantly fall for everyone and ask them to play. If there’d ever been one, there was no doubt now that she’d come home with me. She’s some kind of black and brown calico with ginger streaks on her cheeks that look like she’s tried to paint on fake whiskers. And I swear, it’s almost impossible to take a picture of her in which she doesn’t look like she’s planning your painful death.
Originally, I’d planned to name her Audrey but I had to agree that that name would never suit her. She’s just not classy and lady-like at all. Instead she’s a crazy little monkey. So that’s how her name came about. Äffchen means ‘little monkey’ in German. At first, I’d only call her that as a funny little nickname but it quickly became the one that suited her the most. Admittedly, it’s a strange name but I’m not sure that there’s ever been a more telling pet name.
So, there you go. My first Crazy Cat Lady post.