In which I wax emotional about my cat: this morning, and August, and happiness.

I woke today to soft, pervasive, pale white light flooding the room, a cool breeze and the white noise of the city coming through the cracked windows, and a cat pressed against my ankle. I invited her up for snuggles and she fit herself into the crook of my arm and flopped over so that I could rub her belly. I read a few selections from the anthology I'm working through, then sat up to check my email. She's curled up behind me now, on the blanket I have wrapped around me, her back pressed to my back. That's where she prefers to be, if she can: just touching. She'll sit in my lap on occasion and she's taken to walking in front of my desktop's monitor (of course), and she goes crazy for deep-down, flopped-over, blissed-out snuggles, but the rest of the time she likes it if she can just be close, touching and warm but not a bother—she's probably just napping, after all.

So what I'm saying is that I'm happy.

Later today I'll post August's introduction and story proper. I'll post pictures, too. I can't tell you how easily and quickly she's adjusted—she's still growing and changing as she settles in, but she's been at home here from the very moment that she arrived. Her behavior is fantastic, her appetite likewise; she barely seemed to register the fireworks last night. She doesn't hide under the bed—she explores down there. She hasn't been wary or frightened. She just wants love. It's surreal and impossible, and I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for some last-minute freakout or, I don't know, expensive incurable disease. This literally seems too good to be true.

But we've established that for me, happiness always does, right? It's not an art I've mastered. I'm better, now, with it. I've had some practice in these last few years and months. I can see my guinea pig these days, easy as you'd like, and that means he's happier and healthier than he's been in years. I can cook, if I want—and I do, and it even turns out well! I can do a load of laundry without having a crisis, and this shouldn't be a big deal but it is. This home is mine, too; I'm comfortable here, and free, and happy.

She sleeps pressed against me, and hogs my best squishy pillow during the day, and yet I don't quite believe that August is here and she's mine and she's forever. But it's starting to sink in. These last few years and months I've been watching my own heart come together, piece by piece. And a cat, oh, a cat is a huge piece of my heart. I'm whole and living and alive again—and how the everloving fuck did that happen, guys?

But thank you, thank you, that it did.

(Oh hey look, it's more passive-affection! century_eyes is the reason all of this is possible, in so many ways, and I will never forget that.)

Meet August: Her story, adoption, and finally some pictures!

I promised August's story, so here we go. Some of this is epically long, but I would rather have it all written down than not. I frown not upon skimming.

( On August 22, 2010, August was found as a stray on the city limits of Salem, Oregon: Her history.  )

On July 3, 2011, I adopted her. She's thirteen months old, and I'll be calling her August for the rest of her life. ( The adoption. )

August was vocal in the car ride home, but not quite terrified. When we got to the house I took her upstairs and into my bedroom, opened the carrier door, and she made herself right at home. I went into this ready to deal with an adjustment period, especially in a shy cat, especially one who's had elimination issues. But August sniffed around and then came over to flop down in front of me, and she has been nothing but loving, social, and well-adjusted since.

I imagine the shelter was simply overstimulating; here in a quiet home, August has blossomed. She's a companion cat, perfectly content to sleep next to you, happier still if she can sleep touching you, and always open to cuddling. She'll initiate active contact and cuddles, sometimes if she's bored or lonely, sometimes when she spots an opening (like right after I climb into bed). She likes pretty much all touch, and will lean into cheek rubs and chin scratches, but she best likes having her tummy rubbed—she flops over willingly, and even wants to have her belly fur brushed (and a good thing, too: it needs it). Petting her chest or back legs can make her a little kicky or playful, but not aggressive. She gives headbumps to initiate contact, and love bites in the throes of a good cuddle. She kneeds and paws at people, gently and with love (and currently with clipped claws, which I intend to maintain). She will change positions a few times to find the optimal layout for maximum flopability. A really good cuddle ends up with her leaning against me, tummy up, legs flopping everywhere, eyes closed, falling asleep as a stroke her tummy.

Yeah, it's that cute.

She's sweet, inquisitive, and utterly engaged—she's occasionally playful, but wants a more interactive toy: batting something around isn't as interesting to her as human-directed play would be. If left in the room alone, she tends to meow for a few minutes and then sleep, but she can occasionally get restless and go in search of people. When there's someone in the room, she spends most of her time sleeping or snuggling, will occasionally wander into and under things, and is open to and initiates plenty of interaction. She's alert to sound but not easily startled, and loves to watch out the windows. She's fond of my bed and always sleeps there, and tends to fall asleep with her back or head pressed to a pillow or blanket (or me). The longer she sleeps, the more floppy and stretched out she's likely to become. She has a healthy appetite and has used the litterbox fine from the get-go, although she prefers to do her business at night or when I'm out of the room (but that may change when she's using an enclosed litterbox). When she eats and drinks her whiskers get in the way, and it makes her twitch her head.

August is a domestic medium hair, almost entirely black, with particularly striking eyes. Her facial features are delicate and petite; her teeth are oversized and knock against you when she rubs her cheek on your hand. The fur on her head, neck, and back is black as can be and kitten-soft; it's fine and short on her head, and gets longer along the length of her spine. Her chest and belly fur is longer, frizzier, and slightly curly; it has a brown tint, and some of the tips fade to cream. It's almost impossible for her to groom, and brushing her tummy helps immensely. Her tail is huge and fluffy, black and smooth on top, fuzzy and brownish on the underside, and she carries it at high and pretty. Sometimes when she curls up, she breathes in her tail fur and it makes her sneeze. Her eyes are remarkable: the irises have an outer ring of yellow and an inner ring of green; when her pupils are dilated the green ring is large and makes her eye entire look yellow-green, but when her pupils contract the green ring all but disappears and the yellow reflects ambient light, varying from golden to amber to orange (especially on my orange bed). All of the color variation is vivid and flattering against her black fur. Her whiskers are long and jet black; she has a stray long white hair that grows from her chin. She's adorable. And, of course, there are pictures.


I expect that I'll end up taking a lot of shots trying to capture the beauty of her eyes.

( Hey look, it's what you actually came here for: +7 pictures. )

August is currently locked away in my room while we watch her for signs of illness and let her get adjusted. She's doing beautifully and that I've come to know her so well already is remarkable, but these are still the early days: things are subject to change. In the meantime, rooming with me establishes this as her home in the house and gives us a chance to bond. Eventually we'll introduce her to the rest of the house and to Spike, Dee's cat—Spike used to have a sister and shows ongoing interest in female cats, and we image that he'll be thrilled to have her around; August has previous experience with cats, and should be a good follower to Spike's leader. August is already eager to see the world beyond the bedroom door—it will be a test of willpower to keep her locked away.

But she is happy, and healthy, and so fucking adorable that almost two thousand words aren't enough to express it. So, y'all: That's August.