On a podcast I enjoy, Welcome to Night Vale, the radio host Cecil unexpectedly becomes the caretaker of a cat, Khoshekh.  Cecil has never considered himself a cat person, and Khoshek is not the ideal pet; for example, he’s stuck floating four feet off the ground in the men’s room at the radio station.  But as Cecil comes to love Khoshekh, he observes, “No pet is perfect. It becomes perfect when you learn to accept it for what it is.”

Babette is in many ways not the perfect pet.  Since her sickly kittenhood left her overwhelmed by too much touching, petting her happens briefly and within limits she sets for her own comfort.  She’s not easy-going, and she’s not likely to respond well to people unwilling to take the time to learn the ways she communicates both her pleasure and displeasure. 

Her affection is earned, and demonstrated in small brushes of her muzzle, or in falling trustfully against one’s side with a thump to sleep the night.  And she loves to play, and will eagerly bring a person her favorite toy of the moment once they demonstrate willingness to play with her.  For someone interested in adopting a cat whose affection is demonstrated in the details, for someone willing to take the time, Babette could indeed be the perfect pet..


If you think Babette should be part of your family, contact us:  adopt@operationpaw.com

One of my favorite cat owners of the past is Christopher Smart, all because of part of a poem he wrote between 1759 and 1763.  Smart had been confined to a hospital in London because of insanity.  During this time, he lived a solitary life, companioned by only his cat, Jeoffrey. He also spent some of his time writing the long poem Jubilate Agno.  Of the poem’s 1200+ lines, seventy-four describe his cat, and they’re lovely and moving for all the ways Smart finds to appreciate Jeoffrey.  

A few of my favorite lines from this section read:

“For I will consider my Cat Jeoffrey….

For he is the cleanest in the use of his forepaws of any quadruped.

For he is a mixture of gravity and waggery.

For there is nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest.

For there is nothing brisker than his life when in motion...

For, tho he cannot fly, he is an excellent clamberer.”

Smart catalogues many other ways in which he admires Jeoffrey, and I’ve been thinking about that in respect to Babette as her time as my foster-cat draws to a close. I can’t write poetry, but I can make a list, and so here’s a list of some of what I like most about Babette:

If you think you’d enjoy making your own list for Babette, please consider adopting her!


adopt@operationpaw.com

Babette is now beginning her eight month of life, and I’ve been surprised by her developments in the past few weeks.  I’d figured that after her spaying I would get to enjoy her calming down a bit, growing a tad more docile as she left the high-energy portion of kittenhood behind. 

I was wrong.

Babette dedicates a huge amount of time each day to running: upstairs to downstairs, chasing Nico, being chased by Nico, pouncing on toys and batting them around to chase some more, and running full-tilt the length of the house from kitchen to living room.  

Watching her run has been both funny and startling to watch ever since I began fostering her. First, it was because her rickets left her with an unsteady gait and weakened muscles, so she often toppled over.  Now, it’s because Babette likes to stop abruptly.  The thing is that, although Babette seems to be settling into a small-sized cat—her growth probably stunted by rickets—she’s built a bit like a tank. She has a tiny little turret-head and a stocky, solid torso (and a round belly that is *so hard* not to poke when she shows it off).  So when she stops, she does so with gusto and the sudden arrest of enthusiastic momentum.  She also likes assistance helping herself stop—for example, the assistance of furniture or Nico, whichever she decides is more interesting for halting her barreling dash.  One favorite method of slowing herself down involves crashing into the vertical blinds and rolling into the glass doors.

Perhaps I’m reading on the couch, my back to the living room patio doors, and Babette high-tails it past me.  Before I can even look up, there’s a clatter of blinds and a thump against glass.  Then more clattering and thumping as she rolls herself over and leaps up the glass doors to try catching the lizard on the other side.  And clattering again as she brushes through the blinds and dashes off again.

Or perhaps I’m in the kitchen, and she thumps rapidly down the stairs and runs into the room. If the patio doors are open, she might streak past me to dart outside (it’s a walled-and-screened patio; a bit like a cat aviary, these days).  If the patio doors are closed and the blinds drawn, there’s more clattering. Or there’s the ticky-tack of claws grappling with the rug in front of the patio doors, which usually results in its being flipped over into an impromptu obstacle course for playing hide-and-seek with a mouse toy.

I wish I had the patience and dedication necessary to train cats, because I think Babette would be great for agility courses. Either that, or she would destroy them as she thumped into one obstacle after another.

It has been four months since I was first asked to foster Babette, and I’m both sad and excited that she is getting ready to enter the next stage of her life, and find her forever home!

Babette is now about seven months old, so her growth has largely plateaued as she moves closer to the world of adult catness.  Right now, she’s a trim, small cat, one who possesses boundless energy. Most of her mornings she spends running at top speed from one end of the house to the other.  She likes lurking around doorways or stairs to catch the other cats (or me) unawares with the quick tap of a paw.