2 posts tagged “feline”
After six months of grief and catlessness, I have adopted a six-year-old Maine Coon male from Feline Friends in Salem, New Hampshire.
Giz's back story is that he was adopted three years ago (I guess when he was already three years old, don't know where he was before that) from the Feline Friends program, along with his pal (brother?), Brinkley. The man who adopted him got a new job that required him to travel three weeks out of each month so he brought both cats back to the shelter and wanted them to be adopted together. After a couple of months, they couldn't find a home for the two of them together, so they let Brinkley be adopted on his own and poor cranky Gizmo was left behind.*sniff* Poor baby!
I'd been surfing petfinder.org for an extra-large Maine Coon. The first cat I became infatuated with was a no-go, the foster mom wouldn't allow me to travel home with him to Connecticut form Seattle). So, I took my time, waited for another cat that pulled my heartstrings. I found one: a 6-year-old Maine Coon male (named "Gizmo" by a man who probably still sports a mullet and has a Member's Only jacket in his closet. Just kidding, Eighties people!!) who is simply majestic.
The lady who runs the cat shelter program told me over the phone that the cat I'm interested in is 12 pounds, and very fluffy. I couldn't get this cat out of my mind, he's so unusual looking and has had such a rough time lately. I finally drove up to New Hampshire (3 hours) with my friend, Steve, to meet the cat, see if we're compatible. I wanted Steve with me to make sure I was making the right choice, not taking home a potential disaster. Steve is a good judge of character and honest, so I could count on him for the truth. We get to where the shelter has it's adoption service, the Pets-Mart in Salem. We go through a brief interview with Stacia of Feline Friends and then we meet Gizmo. He's big. But he is fluffy, so most of his bulk is probably that thick coat, I thought. Unfortunately, he'd also been in a shelter environment for a few months, getting gawked at and handled by strangers and is very, very testy. He did NOT want to be picked up, barely tolerated being petted. I got a decent scratch on the back on my hand from him for being a little too fast to try to touch him, but I completely understand where he's coming from, having been left behind with a bunch of cute frisky kittens who won't leave him alone, he was just not in the mood. Norman, the Pets-Mart guy who has been caring for Gizmo since he came back to the shelter says it takes a while but when he gets to know you, he can be affectionate. Norman told us what he likes to eat, what his daily routine has been etc. Norman is obviously very attached to Giz and vice versa. But he can't take him home because Giz doesn't get along with his other cat.
The shelter folks tried to steer me to one or two other cats who were more friendly, but something told me that Gizmo was a sweetheart who was just in the wrong environment. Gizmo needed a real home, and once he felt comfortable, he would be able to relax and allow us to just love him up. Steve concurred. He gave Giz some time to sniff his hands, crouched low so as not to loom over him or box him in, and managed to stroke his head and neck!
So, I decided to take a chance. I told Stacia and Lori (the director, I think, of the Feline Friends shelter/foster program) that I'm interested and I filled out all the forms and applications. They had to check my references and then I'd come back and take him home. They told me that if he doesn't stop hissing or attempting to scratch and bite that they will take him back, so it's not like it was a huge risk, except one doesn't like to stress out a cat by moving him from place to place, with people he doesn't know, for nothing.
To my surprise, they approved me right then and there, so I wouldn't have to come back another time to pick him up! So, having been warned that he hates going into his carrier, we placed the thing on the ground next to him and open the door, prepared for a fight. Gizmo strolled right into the carrier and settled into a hugely fluffy loaf-shaped pile. Steve helped me pick up supplies and loaded the carrier into my car, and Giz was a perfect gentleman all the way home. Seemed like it was meant to be.
I got home, brought the supplies inside, set up a litter box and attempted to bring in the carrier. Either this cat is more than 12 pounds or he's in the heaviest carrier I've ever known.
Turns out from looking at this medical records that Giz isn't 12 pounds. He's 12 kilograms. That's 26.45 pounds to us normal people. *wink to the Canadians and Europeans* Extra Large INDEED!
In short, my new cat is a beefalo. Or maybe a cattalo. He could feed our entire extended family, sliced thickly even. He's just enormous. I'm keeping him on a reduced-fat diet and making sure he gets exercise every day, but I doubt we'll ever get him below a deuce. He's just a monster cat.
He's a riot, I can hardly stand it. It took him 24 hours to completely own the place. He's clean and well behaved, too, which is good because he could kill us all in our sleep if he wanted to. He's a slealthy beefalo, if you can imagine that. He follows me from one room to the next, hangs out on my bed while I'm at work (at least when he's not exploring the house or watching TV with the family), and kneads my tummy at bedtime. He sleeps at the foot of my bed at night, but creeps up to my side for intensive petting and purring when I'm just about asleep. It's so sweet! He's even allowed me to pick him up and smooch him! Without even the slightest struggle! He has the teeniest little meow, almost a chirp. It's so incongruous with his size and his huge, ruthless-looking paws. The body of a lion and the voice of a chickadee.
He has some mats on his tummy, will probably need it shaved down, but the rest of his coat is in pretty decent shape. He goes to the groomer next week, for coat rehab. Then I should be able to maintain his fur after that. He's sort of let me brush him a little. Not really, but I've gotten a couple brush strokes in before runs away, anyway.
So, here his is, in all his beefy glory:
