Murphy too!

Once Baxter settled in--or rather, once I got used to him being around--I immediately wanted another cat. It was like an obsession. But better to be rational about it, right? Wait a year. See how the first one goes, and then rethink things. Only I kept thinking about more cats...looking at kitties online. I was like a crazy person. So finally I caved and started looking for real. It was time to expand the family.



Murphy came from a foster home, and while he turned out to be a lovely cat and I did get to save a helpless cat's life, I will never go that route again. Over email, I had arranged a time to come see him. His foster mother seemed normal. I figured she was just your stereotypical cat lover/rescue lady. A little kooky, maybe, but nice. And I guess that's what she turned out to be, only what I hadn't thought about was what sort of dwelling a stereotypical cat lover--i.e., fanatic--resides in. I could smell her apartment as soon as I exited the elevator on her floor. I also heard barking coming from the apartment. "That's funny," I thought. "Why would a cat person have dogs?" And then the door opened. Turns out her apartment was even smaller than mine (a large-ish but still small by non-NYC standards studio) and filled with a minimum of 25 cats and 4 dogs. Everywhere I looked, cats. On the tv? Cat. On the couch? Several cats. On the coffee table? Cat. In the hallway? Cat, cat, cat. In the kitchen? Cat on the fridge, cats on the counter, cats on the microwave. It was creepy. I couldn't even tell where this woman slept, since the piece of furniture most-resembling a bed was covered with heavy-duty garbage bags and--you guessed it--about six or seven cats. I wanted to run away. The smell alone made me want to gag. But I was here for a cat, and dammit, I knew I could provide a better home than this place. At the very least, a more sanitary one.

Unfortunately Crazy Cat Lady liked to talk. Once she introduced me to Murphy (then named Polo) and I was holding him in my arms, bonding with him and longing to take him away from this scary, smelly place, she proceeded to talk about who-knows-what for minute after minute after minute. And you'd think that after you've spent a long enough time in a smelly room, you'd adjust to the smell somewhat? Nope. It was that stinky. Finally I saw a window of opportunity to end the conversation, and we made plans for me to adopt Murphy.

He was delivered the next day. The first thing I did was give him a bath, to get Crazy Cat Lady smell off of him.

And then the fun began.

Welcome!

Welcome to my blog! I recently got two cats, so I thought it would be a great idea to start a blog all about them. Let me preface this by saying I absolutely love my cats, despite any bitching about them that might go on here. I got Baxter in March and Murphy in May of 2006. I'd never had pets before, even as a child, so everything was new to me. So this is a story of a girl and two cats, living it up in the big city...




Baxter (above) was a spontaneous acquisition. I had wanted a cat on and off since I was a kid, but the last time I'd tried to get one (about 5 years ago), I freaked out at the last minute and wouldn't even pet the cats in the shelter. I figured that's what would happen when I went to the ASPCA one day in March--but I was wrong. That was the day I became a cat person--March 4, 2006.

About two hours after setting off on my journey, I came home with Baxter, a tiger-striped cat about one year old. He seemed calm and polite in the shelter...I figured, he wasn't a kitten, how big a deal could it be? I had no idea what I was in for...

Baxter was a bit shy at first. I let him out in the bathroom (they tell you to keep them in a small room for the first few days so they can acclimate) and he took a few minutes to even come out of the carrier. Then he sniffed around a bit and eventually lay down. After a couple hours of this, I felt bad for the kitty, and decided that a studio apartment was the equivalent of a "small room", so I let Baxter out. He did a couple circles around the room, sniffing at everything. I felt like I was seeing my apartment again for the first time--but through kitty eyes. Everything was new and fascinating. Every nook and cranny might lead somewhere, and had to be investigated. It was a rush.

I then made the mistake of trying to put Baxter back in the small room (aka the bathroom) for the night, but after a couple minutes of vicious meowing, I let him free. There was officially a cat living with me. My life was about to change forever.