I thought I'd take the time to introduce one of my kitties, because who doesn't like cats these days? Her name is Luna, but she also goes by Loony, Loony Woony, Loonie Patoonie, Cutie Wutie, Clair De Lune, Miss Luna, and LunaPii. I asked my partner what other names he had for Luna, and he said, and I quote, "If I had a nickname for her, it would be 'Cream Cheese'."
Um... what? ... Moving on.
We went to an animal shelter last year in January, with the intention of picking up a cat or a kitten. My sister came with us because she wanted to see all of the kittens and puppies, and she'd never been to an animal shelter before.
As soon as we stepped into the cattery, Sean was immediately drawn to a little tabby that was climbing the wire fence, meowing for attention. He would not look at another cat or kitten after her, and while she also had my attention, I wanted to get an adult cat. When it comes to adopting a pet, I let the animal choose the owner, just like a wand chooses its wizard, but I also felt that adult pets are more deserving of homes than kittens. Sadly, I found that none of the cats came to my attention. A lot of the adult cats kept to themselves, and they didn't seem to want me as their owner. To this day, I still feel regret for not taking home an older one. It feels like they've given up hope for a new home, and it just makes me so sad.
When I saw Pond (Luna's original name), she was so small that I felt an overwhelming desire to protect her from the world. I opened the cage, picked her up and cradled her to my chest. And instead of being timid or fidgety, she scrambled up my chest to burrow in the crook of my neck, and promptly fell asleep right there.
Sean soon found me trying to wrestle her out of my hair, and said, "I guess we're taking her home too."
"TOO?!"
It turned out that Sean was hellbent on taking the little tabby home. The volunteers at the shelter told me that I had been the first one that Pond had warmed up to since her arrival, and since I'm a sucker for fate, I couldn't resist taking her home with me.
I was fine with calling her Pond, but as the days wore on, it just started to sound weird. It didn't suit her, so I renamed her Luna, after the character Luna Lovegood, from the Harry Potter series.
Luna is, by all means, a very curious creature, befitting her namesake. She is generally quiet, and rarely makes sounds except for when she purrs. It always scares the bejeezus out of us when we hear her hiss or meow. Just the other day, I was in the laundry doing a load, and I heard something that sounded like a dying cat. I ran outside, terrified that the friendly neighbourhood stray was being attacked by the other cats in the area. I found the ginger boy curled up into a ball, merrily snoozing under the kitchen window, so, perplexed, I went back inside. What do I find? Luna sitting at the kitchen sink, making a ruckus as she tried to scare away the ginger through the window.
It didn't faze him, but the same couldn't be said for my poor partner and housemate - they both had been woken up by the noise, and they were shocked beyond belief to find out that it had been her. When she's in the company of other cats, she usually runs and hides, and will not leave her hiding spot until the intruder has left. She usually find somewhere so secluded that it's impossible to find, or extract, her. So, to hear her ferocious (or pathetic, if you really think about it) attempt to scare away the stray cat, it was very unnerving.
Luckily she's so cute. She makes this squeaky sound in her sleep, much like a squeeze toy. It goes like this: inhale, squeak, inhale, squeak. Her meow is also rather squeaky too, and everyone just trips over themselves when she does it. She doesn't do it much, not when she's begging for food. In fact, she never begs for food, because she lets Phoebe do all the work for her, even at 6 o'clock in the morning. She'll let Phoebe push the door open, jump up on the bed and lick my face until I wake up, just so they both can be fed. Luna just sits, and waits.
And steals my Pringles.
As soon as she hears me opening up a can, she comes running, staring at me with her great big eyes, and I have no choice but to crush a handful for her. Despite her strange obsession for Pringles and buttered toast, she's one of the cutest cats around, and I am so lucky to have her in my life. She knows when I'm unhappy or in pain, and she keeps me company during my bad days. She's the quiet and faithful friend that you know you can count on when times are tough.
Look forward to a post on my other furbaby, Phoebe, sometime soon.
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