I brought the cat I had chosen to the front desk. The woman at the desk checked his history on the computer. In a very bubbly voice told me I had picked a male, who was over six months old. These were things I already knew. We were told his name was “Niege” (French for snow), but we could change his name if we wanted.
After a few minutes of looking at his file, I noticed a frown settle on her face. I started to panic. What if I couldn’t have him. In a serious voice she asked if there were any other cats in the home. I said there were not. Next she asked if we were planning on getting any other cats in the future. Hubby adamantly told her, one cat was all we were getting. A look of relief crossed her face. She told us this particular cat “didn’t get along” with other cats, male or female, younger or older. She told us we wouldn’t have been able to adopt him if we had another cat at the house. If we wanted him, I had to sign an agreement saying no other cat would be brought into the home. After we signed the agreement, she seemed to relax. I asked her if my cat had been adopted before and returned to the shelter. She hesitated. I assured her my mind was made up and the papers had been signed, I was just curious. She told me that was exactly what had happened. I think I fell in love with him even more when I heard that.
I knew I was going to change his name. A new start, a new life, with a new name. Many names were suggested by the family members. None of them seemed to fit.
The first few days I watched the cat investigate every nook and cranny in the house. He would disappear for hours. I would go look for him and not find him. Usually as I made my way back downstairs after an unsuccesful search, he would appear to race me down the stairs.
The cat was definitely a creature of habit. Every morning as soon as I get downstairs, I put the kettle on for instant coffee. After I put the stuff in my cup, I feed and put fresh water in the cat’s dish. One morning about five days into this routine, I put the kettle on and looked at his bowl it was still half full. Good enough I thought, he can wait a minute or two while I take the garbage outside for pick up. As I picked the garbage bag up, I turned to walk. The next thing I knew I was grasping for air trying to keep my balance. I’m not sure how I stayed upright, but I did. I continued outside with the garbage. When I got back inside, I walked to the kitchen sink to wash my hands. The cat came out of nowhere and ran straight for my feet. I would like to say that falling into the counter woke me up, but I’m not a morning person. I washed my hands and set about fixing my coffee. The walk into the living room was interrupted by a cat flying at my feet again. For the next few hours anytime I walked a cat was under my feet. He never hindered anyone elses movement as they prepared to get ready to leave the house. When everyone was gone, I went upstairs to get the laundry basket. As I was coming down the stairs the cat launched himself from the top of the stairs, ran in front of me also knocking me over.
Yup that’s when I woke up. OOOPS!! I forgot to feed the cat. After I fed the cat the rest of my day was uneventful.
When Hubby got home from work I told him the cat has a name. Tripps.