![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
juushikaI 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. She was about seven weeks old. Salem's Willamette Humane Society named her Dotty; shortly after after she was transferred to Cat Adoption Team in Sherwood, Oregon and was renamed August. On August 31, 2010 she was adopted by a family that had another elderly cat as well as two dogs and three children under ten. They named her Jenny. She got along well with the family, but their elderly cat took to peeing under a desk instead of in the litterbox and August began to do the same; in May, 2011, the family took her back to CAT. CAT added the name Jenny to all their charts and to her collar.
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.
CAT uses the ASPCA's Meet Your Match Feline-ality Assessment to help categorize cat personality types and match adopters to cats; in May 2001 (when she was brought back to CAT at eleven months old) August tested out as shy, curious, tolerant, and affectionate, and was labeled a Personal Assistant (highly social, moderately outgoing). I tested as as match for Personal Assistant or Lovebug (highly social and highly shy), which should surprise no one.
When I met August, she was in the glass room, a multi-cat open room with a wall full of windows and about ten other cats. I found her in one of the litterbox cabinets (and then went through the doubt and confusion of the "August Jenny" written on her collar). She was perfectly willing to come sit in front of me for a bit and let me pet her. Eventually she crawled in my lap, and then back off; she went to investigate one of the corners of the room, but when I got her attention again she came back over and sat at my hip, slightly behind me on the floor but pressed against me, curled into a quiet, soft cat loaf. She was unenthusiastic but tolerant when I picked her up for a few seconds; she welcomed all touch, even when I checked out a remarkably dense little mat on her cheek.
August wasn't an in-your-face undeniable cat. There were a few of those (if you're looking for big ol' male king cats of impressive size and personality, CAT currently has your pick—man oh man was it hard for us to walk out without Roger, let me tell you), and there were playful youngsters, and it was awesome to sit in the middle of so many cats doing so many cat things. August was quiet and soft and close by, and if I hadn't been there to see her, I honestly don't know if she would have caught my eye.
But she was close by. I won't say she "chose me," but she was carefully, quietly beside me. There's many things I love about cats, and near as many that I'd be happy to see in one that shares my home, but at its most essential what I want in my own companion cat is a companion. Siting in my lap or on a bed nearby, begging for attention or quietly sleeping, I'm flexible on the specifics but it's the familial, familiar company that matters.
I don't know that I was thinking about that at the time. I don't know that I was thinking much at all, really—this whole experience has been surreal. There were flashes of comprehension—when the adoption counselor mentioned fifteen years it occurred to me that a lifetime, her lifetime, will be with me. (Followed by oh shit what am I doing.) But even now, even though I just did litterbox duty, it still feels like a dream. This is something that I've wanted so badly, for so long, that having it defies comprehension. But there in the glass room at the shelter, she was pressed against me, soft and smooth as a kitten, and then she ended up being mine.
CAT was fantastic, by the way—they have reasonable, uncompromising adoption policies for the good of the animal, adopter, and shelter; they're educated and educating, but also passionate and incredibly friendly. Other than leaving Roger there, it was pretty much an ideal experience. A++, would (and may, in a few years) adopt again.
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.
Windowkitty. Her underside floof is already looking better than that.
This is early sleeping posture, a curled up little ball of fluff.
This is also when she's likely to end up snorting her own tail.
This is late sleeping posture, because the longer she sleeps the floppier she gets.
It's also "pet my tummy" sleep and "do you know how warm a black cat gets in the summer?" sleep.
I've learned a lot these last few days about photographing a black cat, yes indeedy.
For my own records, I'll also include the pictures that were posted on August's adoption page. These are lifted from CAT's website and Petfinder, but I doubt they'll mind.
And one last: August's previous owners sent a long a few home photos of her when they returned her to the shelter; this is the best of them:
August under a bed. Behold remarkable, changeable eyes.
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.
On August 22, 2010, August was found as a stray on the city limits of Salem, Oregon. She was about seven weeks old. Salem's Willamette Humane Society named her Dotty; shortly after after she was transferred to Cat Adoption Team in Sherwood, Oregon and was renamed August. On August 31, 2010 she was adopted by a family that had another elderly cat as well as two dogs and three children under ten. They named her Jenny. She got along well with the family, but their elderly cat took to peeing under a desk instead of in the litterbox and August began to do the same; in May, 2011, the family took her back to CAT. CAT added the name Jenny to all their charts and to her collar.
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.
CAT uses the ASPCA's Meet Your Match Feline-ality Assessment to help categorize cat personality types and match adopters to cats; in May 2001 (when she was brought back to CAT at eleven months old) August tested out as shy, curious, tolerant, and affectionate, and was labeled a Personal Assistant (highly social, moderately outgoing). I tested as as match for Personal Assistant or Lovebug (highly social and highly shy), which should surprise no one.
When I met August, she was in the glass room, a multi-cat open room with a wall full of windows and about ten other cats. I found her in one of the litterbox cabinets (and then went through the doubt and confusion of the "
August wasn't an in-your-face undeniable cat. There were a few of those (if you're looking for big ol' male king cats of impressive size and personality, CAT currently has your pick—man oh man was it hard for us to walk out without Roger, let me tell you), and there were playful youngsters, and it was awesome to sit in the middle of so many cats doing so many cat things. August was quiet and soft and close by, and if I hadn't been there to see her, I honestly don't know if she would have caught my eye.
But she was close by. I won't say she "chose me," but she was carefully, quietly beside me. There's many things I love about cats, and near as many that I'd be happy to see in one that shares my home, but at its most essential what I want in my own companion cat is a companion. Siting in my lap or on a bed nearby, begging for attention or quietly sleeping, I'm flexible on the specifics but it's the familial, familiar company that matters.
I don't know that I was thinking about that at the time. I don't know that I was thinking much at all, really—this whole experience has been surreal. There were flashes of comprehension—when the adoption counselor mentioned fifteen years it occurred to me that a lifetime, her lifetime, will be with me. (Followed by oh shit what am I doing.) But even now, even though I just did litterbox duty, it still feels like a dream. This is something that I've wanted so badly, for so long, that having it defies comprehension. But there in the glass room at the shelter, she was pressed against me, soft and smooth as a kitten, and then she ended up being mine.
CAT was fantastic, by the way—they have reasonable, uncompromising adoption policies for the good of the animal, adopter, and shelter; they're educated and educating, but also passionate and incredibly friendly. Other than leaving Roger there, it was pretty much an ideal experience. A++, would (and may, in a few years) adopt again.
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.
Windowkitty. Her underside floof is already looking better than that.
This is early sleeping posture, a curled up little ball of fluff.
This is also when she's likely to end up snorting her own tail.
This is late sleeping posture, because the longer she sleeps the floppier she gets.
It's also "pet my tummy" sleep and "do you know how warm a black cat gets in the summer?" sleep.
I've learned a lot these last few days about photographing a black cat, yes indeedy.
For my own records, I'll also include the pictures that were posted on August's adoption page. These are lifted from CAT's website and Petfinder, but I doubt they'll mind.
And one last: August's previous owners sent a long a few home photos of her when they returned her to the shelter; this is the best of them:
August under a bed. Behold remarkable, changeable eyes.
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.
