Molly sleeping in one of her favorite spots.
For many years, I always wanted to have my own pet(s), namely a cat. When I was growing up and living with my parents, we usually had at least one around: Katze, Shadow, Shirley, Farrah, Teddy and Mewsette. There were some gaps when we were cat-less, namely our time in Houston, but after the births of Teddy and Mewsette in 1984, felines have always been around my parents’ house. Our last dog bit me in the ass. This certainly colored my opinion against “man’s (alleged) best friend” and I think they smell it when they growl at me.
Obviously, I didn’t have a pet in college because I lived in the dorms for three years. Then I resided in various apartments by myself or with roommates; animals were out of the picture due to finances, allergies or a lack of consent. One horrible experience I had with (temporary) roommates involved a kitten named Mickey (after a brand of malt liquor) and when I found out they gave the poor brain-damaged critter to the shelter to be destroyed, I promised myself that I would never have a pet unless I could care for it to the end.
The years and other residences passed. Still no pets while other friends accumulated various companions I would help take care of during vacations: Audrey, Copper, Lestat, Brandy, Jiji, Panzer, Penelope and Tora readily come to mind. I was too reluctant to make the commitment, especially in light of the recent move from Austin to Raleigh-Durham and back in less than a year. Then came the hefty deposit with an apartment complex; money remained tight despite having a permanent gig at Apple.
In the Spring of 2000, Somara and I got a place together. Matters in our relationship were working out well enough to take the gamble. One added benefit was Somara’s cat Wicca who thought I was tolerable but I felt she was amusing with her chatter. Here I figured, cool, we have a cat, now I can see how it goes in addition to the relevant matters at hand.
After my backfill as a manager ended in disappointment, Somara could tell I was really bummed so she decided to give me an early birthday present…a cat to call my own. Animals are generally free, the gift part was Somara covering the deposit while I paid the animal shelter. Encouraged over the offer, we drove to the shelter near I-35 and 183. It was hard to choose because it’s sad to see all those abandoned creatures wanting another chance. The shelter people had me fill out a questionnaire and a check (what I jokingly call cat bail) to start the process. Then we got introduced to a cat they felt fit the description of what I was looking for. The first candidate was a huge male named Catcow. He was nice yet not very interested in me. (I only hope he found a good home.) The next was a one-year-old female who was abandoned by her previous owners for undisclosed reasons. Her name was Molly and she was a perfect match. I got her to play with my badge, she hopped up into my lap, she purred audibly while I petted her and Molly reminded me why I prefer cats over dogs or fish.
With my cat selected, the shelter had things to wrap up but to always avoid buyer’s remorse, I couldn’t take Molly home for another day. I suppose they gave her one more exam to ensure she’d be okay.
How I couldn’t wait for work to end that Friday. We rushed out to the shelter with Somara’s cat carrier to take Molly home with a quick diversion to a nearby Petsmart for accessories: her own bowl, a collar and maybe a toy.
Once we arrived at our apartment, the dark side of Molly’s personality manifested as soon as she spotted Wicca…my sweet, new kitty was a bully. A chase up and down the stairs ensued until Somara rescued the older Wicca; to this day I think Wicca resented me since her tiny brain made the correlation (Steve = Molly = I’m not the only child anymore!).
Despite Molly’s initial outburst a decade ago and occasional demonstrations of exerting her authority upon other cats (real or imagined), I have never regretted the decision to adopt her. Molly has given me years of joy, amusement, laughter and a little worry (in 2003 she had to have surgery for a bladder stone). I am definitely her human. Somara told me that when I went away on vacation in 2002 to hang with Jose, Molly would wait near the front door around 5-6 PM, expecting me to come home. I am also sure she eventually thought, “the hell with him” by 7 PM when I was a bust.
Molly recently celebrated her 11th birthday (57 for a human) and there are no signs of her slowing down. Miette and Nemo respect her authority. Kuroneko couldn’t care less since she’s flighty, young and probably figures time is on her side being three.
We’ll celebrate her anniversary like every other day: breakfast around 530 AM while I’m exercising, dinner when I get home and then lap time while watching Netflix.