Remember a few weeks back when I got all comvolutedly superstitiously overblown about the nothingness of a non-event that I’d been unable to blog about?
Yes, well. The non-event has now eventified, though not exactly the way it was supposed to (do they ever?), but still it did eventually eventuate, so now I can tell you about it.
Juliet turned up at Lauren’s door in late April, a small bag of skin and bones, a waif. Lauren’s is one of those houses with an invisible X on the door, invisible that is to everybody except stray cats - you know, the X that means “Good Place for Handouts, Possibly Leading to Permanent Home.” Well, so Juliet saw the X, and she assumed the position, and of course Lauren opened the door and Juliet waltzed in like she owned the place, and Lauren took her in and fed her and was completely charmed by her. Nevertheless Lauren was determined not to keep her, because she’d only recently succeeded in lowering the resident head count out of the double digits. Then again, Lauren of course was aware of my problem with Morgan, and it occurred to her that there might be a win-win deal to be brokered here. As she said to me: “A cat is definitely going to have to go to the no-kill shelter. It could be this cat. Or… it could be a different cat, a cat who isn’t ever going to be happy where she is and who needs a change and a chance. I knew as soon as I saw her that somebody was in need of a cat; I think maybe it’s you.”
Needless to say I went over for a mutual audition and it was a done deal from Moment One. Where Morgan is deeply neurotic, Juliet is mellow and demure and quietly affectionate. Where Morgan is entirely humorless, Juliet has a distinct sense of fun. Where Morgan is inflexible and intolerant, Juliet is open-minded and ready to like anyone and everyone, regardless of species or affiliation. Morgan has a chip on her shoulder; Juliet doesn’t know from chips except as something to play with.
So… we entered a holding pattern. Juliet stayed at Lauren’s for the time being, but I took her to the vet (minor stuff, worms and an ear infection, no FLV or FAIDS, whew), and started going over there a couple of times a day to give her her meds. Meanwhile Lauren initiated the complex scheduling dance with the friend who has access to the no-kill shelter.
Said dance takes a long time, it turns out, especially toward the end of the school year, and after a few weeks of this sort of limbo I went ahead and brought Juliet home, even though we weren’t visibly closer to moving Morgan out.
It wasn’t until some weeks later that the dance reached its final figure. At last the moment came; I put Morgan into the carrier, took her over to Lauren’s, handed her over, came home. Started composing blog entry in my head but didn’t actually write a word of it. For some reason I just felt that I’d better wait until Lauren reported back to me that the deed was really and truly done.
“Don’t tell me….”
“The shelter has a waiting list, and we’re #10.”
I didn’t post at all that night. Or the next day. Or the next.
I think it was four days before I managed to put up the non-post about the deflating non-event. Sounds stupid, maybe, but after a year and a half of living under siege….
How many weeks have gone by since? I don’t even know.
To my astonishment and relief, Morgan has remained at Lauren’s. I don’t know whether the shelter thing is going to come through, and at this point I don’t even know whether to hope for it or not. If she and Lauren (and Lauren’s menagerie) can make a go of it - double digits or not - so much the better. Luke was her chief deal-breaker all along, and where there is no traumatizing dog perhaps Morgan can settle in and find some comfort, even become Somebody’s Daughter after all. Much as I hated to admit defeat, that just wasn’t ever going to happen here. BTW Lauren, who has a LOT of experience with cats, does report that Morgan’s every bit as wacked-out as I thought her, maybe more so - but at least she doesn’t have the deck stacked against her as she did here. And Lauren LIKES her. It’s a fresh start, a decent fighting chance.
In any case, it’s now definite that she isn’t coming back here; so now I get to unveil Juliet.
We think she’s about 9-10 months old, give or take.
She’s filled out beautifully since the worming - no trace of the waif about her now.
It took her about three days to make Luke her own; at first she was a little alarmed by his exuberance, but she quickly determined that he was entirely harmless, and now she plays leap-dog just like Ptolemy.
Speaking of whom…
… no problem.