So you may recall that last week we adopted a cat, and if you don’t recall you can skip back just a few entries to read all about it, plus my thoughts on what it means for me, an avowed cat-disliker and allergy-sufferer, to have a cat in the house.
At the end of that entry I pointed out that my wife and I came to the agreement at the outset that if I were rendered miserable by my allergies, we would find the cat a new home. This was the potential deal-breaker of deal-breakers, and the one I was primarily concerned about going into this situation.
But before I get to that, let me talk about the good stuff. As we had hoped, Blossom is as friendly and outgoing as she was at Animal Control. She’s an extremely curious cat, which means she likes to poke her nose into places she might not belong, but the rest of the time she’s perfectly content to curl up next to (or on) my wife and purr and sleep. She even gets along with the dog, despite a few early hisses before she came to realize that the dog meant her no harm and just wants to be friends.
I have rarely met a cat so enamored of people. My usual experience with cats is that the animals have little use for people and sometimes are outright hostile. I don’t know if that’s because most of the cats I’ve known have been outdoor cats — a practice I abhor, by the way — and therefore have too much wild in them, but as Blossom is one hundred percent indoor, she behaves as though people are the center of her existence. As I say, highly unusual.