Happy Birthday, Stanley!

 

 It has been a while since I last gave you an update on my sweet boy, Stanley, so I thought today, being his birthday, would be a good time. Today he is six years old. I am so happy that the last 4½ years of his life have been very good ones, and with me. As a dog person, owning a cat has been filled with a lot of surprises, and much delight. However, owning Stanley doesn’t make me feel as though I have truly owned a cat, because he’s very un-catlike in many ways. First of all, other than the bed, he never jumps up on anything. He will not get up on my lap, he will not allow me to pick him up, he flinches if I move too quickly, refuses to see anyone other than me (some people don’t believe I have a cat because they have never seen him), and totally freaks out if I yell at baseball. That is unfortunate, because I love yelling at baseball. Second, he refuses to play with any toys (trust me I have tried them all), and refuses to use any type of scratching post (we’re not going to talk about some of the furniture), with the exception of a circular rug that I have under the king chair in my bedroom that I decided to give to him to use on his claws. The rug was inexpensive, and it’s well worth it to me to have to replace it every couple of years so that he has something of his own.

He’s not all that enamored with poached chicken or salmon, but I can absolutely own him with a piece of cheese. He can be anywhere in the house, and all I have to do is open a package of cheese, and he is standing right next to me. He doesn’t get people food, mind you, but I do like to give him a treat on his birthday.

 

He does like to snuggle with me when I’m watching television. I will stretch out on the bed, and he will snuggle right up to me, insisting that I put both arms around him. If I don’t, he will reach out with his paw, grab it, and pull it towards him. He has brought me so much joy... and so much cat hair. That was a new experience for me, having only ever owned dogs. Cat hair has a life of its own. It’s so lightweight that it freely wafts through the air. It has also required the purchase of different types of cleaning equipment that I find I use regularly in order to keep things at bay. I don’t know how cat owners deal with all the cat hair, particularly if more than one cat is involved. Still, that’s a small price to pay for so much furry love.

Despite all of his strange little quirks, I know he is happy with me. It’s calm, and quiet, and he feels safe. This cat, whom the owners of the shelter told me was the type of cat likely to spend his entire life in a shelter because no one wanted to take a chance on such an abused creature has really been the one to rescue me.Happy Birthday, Stanley!

Introducing "Stanley"

 

 I find it interesting, and a little bit disturbing, that when I take a little time off of blogging, that I end up getting more views, than when I’m active. I’m not entirely sure what that says about my skills as a blogger, at any rate, I’m back.

I took some time off because I have added a new addition to my family. Back in March, a week before the lock-down, I decided that I wanted a pet. At this point in my life, I didn’t want the work of a dog. Not that I don’t love them, I do; I am a total dog person, but the training, the walking, going outside in winter — the dog not me I never go outside — all seemed like a bit much. A year ago I played host to my number two son, daughter-in-law, and their two cats while they were awaiting completion of their new home. I really enjoyed those cats.

As soon as I decided to get one, the lock-down hit and the local shelters were closed. They recently reopened, and I paid them a visit. I made the mistake of going with my number two son, Andrew. All animals on planet earth love Andrew, they always have done. When we walked into the Kitty Kottage at the shelter, every cat in the place headed straight for him, turning their backs on me. One cat, in a cage because he had not yet been tested for feline leukemia, and was known to be a bit of a biter, gave me the once over. Because that was the only cat that would let me pet him (and he bit me too), I immediately knew that he was the one. After four visits, and one more bite, I brought him home.

The workers at the shelter gathered around me as I was ready to take Stanley home, and thanked me for taking a chance on him. They added that he was the kind of cat who could end up spending years in a shelter. As soon as I got in the car I wondered what the heck I had done. I know nothing about cats, and now I am bringing one home to live with me; not just any cat, but one who has a bit of a reputation.

We are now eight days into it, and while Stanley has vacated his pumpkin bed (shown in the picture above) that had been given to him at the shelter, and with which he immediately bonded, he has yet to venture far from beneath my bed. He is eating and using his litter box, so I’m just going to let him call the shots.

My intention, because I love British mysteries, was to give him either a British name, or one associated with mystery. Because I couldn’t make the British thing work, I decided to name him after a favorite mystery writer, namely the one who wrote the Perry Mason novels. So my cat’s new name is Erle Stanley Gardner, Stanley for short. I think it will work for both of us. Stay tuned!