So I've been kind of a pussy about getting another pussy, and Mary hasn't pushed it either, mostly because of the cost. The first cat I ever adopted, Wild Thing, leaped from behind a dumpster on 10th Street in the East Village and scrambled up my leg during a torrential downpour, and the only expenses I incurred involved a trip to the bodega on Avenue C for a box of Tender Vittles, a bag of Johnny Cat, and a tin of Band-Aids for my punctured shin. So basically, cats are like heroin -- first one's free, kid. But now it costs a couple yards to bring home a rescue animal, and as we're still paying off Mary's surgery, since some of the bills arrived after we'd lost our insurance, we both agreed that taking on any additional financial burden could and should wait.
Moondoggie, however, changed our minds...
He adored Riley from the first moment he saw her, and made it his life's work to chase her around the apartment like Pepe Le Pew until she would finally, through a combination of sheer exhaustion and pure exasperation, permit him to lay his head on her ass.
We had to face the fact that he's just no good at lone wolfing it. He needed a friend.
So on Sunday, while trying and failing to track down a kitten Mary saw at an adoption event several weeks ago, we discovered a four-month old black cat living in a plexiglass cage at Petco, and after gingerly extracting her for a test hug, found there was much purring and rejoicing. Which was followed by an incredibly lengthy application form cum Meyers-Briggs test, and a home visit by two animal social workers to determine if we were fit parents. (I don't mean the social workers were animals, although that would've been incredibly cool; just imagine getting an inspection tour by a dapper, bipedal tiger like Captain Marvel's associate Tawky Tawny). Anyway, it seems we must have passed, since we now have a new kitty on staff:
According to her medical records, "Shadow was found with her mother and siblings in a building being abandoned near Hollywood and Sunset when she was about three weeks old."
We were briefed on all the introduction protocols, how to keep them separate at first, etc., but the instant Mary put the pet taxi on the floor, Moondoggie appointed himself the Welcome Wagon, and flopped down in front of the open cage door.
"Say, you're new in town, aren't you?"
The hilariously karmic element to this story (or what Mary is calling "payback") is that Shadow's reaction to Moondoggie is exactly the same as Moondoggie's reaction to his first glimpse of Riley. She's spellbound.
"Who is that gorgeous hunk of marmalade man?"
I really hope that book title doesn't prove prophetic. Anyway, despite it being rather a cliche, we decided to keep the name Shadow because that's basically what she does -- shadows Moondoggie all over the apartment like a private dick -- and because the portmanteau couple name, "MoonShadow," is ready made. And comes with it's own theme song. Written by a guy named Cat!
Moondoggie remains, as he has always been, the gentlest of souls, without a mean bone in his body, and has been nothing but welcoming to the new addition (even when she stole his bed -- as seen in yesterday's photo -- he just sighed and stretched out on the floor). But I gotta say, in the last 48 hours, Shadow has run him ragged; and even when she's not chasing his tail, she's staring adoringly at him to the point where he's starting to feel self-conscious.
"Finally, I've got a moment to scratch--"
Of course, one never knows how any relationship will develop over time; but while I'm no cockeyed optimist, there is one thing which gives me hope that it might all work out...