An Adoption Meant to Be

After nineteen years of being told there would never be a cat in our household - either because of concerns of my dad's allergy to cat hair, or how our dog would respond to a much smaller furry friend than they were used to - I had decided it would probably just be easier to wait till I moved out to adopt myself a cat.

That was at least until my sister, living in Iowa at the time with their own cat, my precious niece Piglet, came back to Arizona to spend the summer with us. We learned our dog Mei actually does very well with cats - she's very submissive, so it was easy for Piglet to put her in her place. Not only that, but my dad completely changed his mind about how he felt about having a cat in the house. For so long he had been strictly against it, not even because of his allergies although that was a slight factor still; he would say, "I've only ever had dogs. I'm used to dogs. I wouldn't know what to do with a cat."

We had met Piglet before, but actually having her in the house with us was what did it.

Shortly after my sister left, there was sparse talk about getting our own cat. We were busy with work and life, and we weren't in a rush.

Then came along a day where my dad told my mom all about a cat he had learned about from a pet shelter worker who came into the bookstore where they both work, for the occasional adoption opportunities they have hosted in the store. He told my mom, who then told me, about this poor eight-year-old cat who had been brought in to the local shelter because her family could no longer keep her. It was a heartbreaking story: she had been with her family for eight years, and they recently had a baby who turned out to be allergic. So they got rid of her. When I heard this story, I honestly couldn't imagine doing that if I was in a similar situation, but I know her family was probably just as heartbroken having to give her up.

We got ourselves to the shelter as quick as we could that weekend to meet her. In the designated cat room, I went straight to her little kennel, opened it, and picked her up. She was incredibly skinny - the shelter worker told us she hadn't been eating at all, and had only just started to eat a little bit after they moved her into isolation, but the day we were there they had moved her back into the general population. I held her and my dad and I pet her for awhile. We took a peek at a few other cats there, but none of them were good with other pets and since we had lost our other dog about a year before, we were also looking for an eventual companion to Mei. So, this tuxedo cat with striking green eyes and a perfect black nose just had to be the one. My dad and I called my mom to confirm, and we took her home with us that day.

I had already looked her up on the shelter's website and saw her first name was Davie, and we had agreed it didn't suit her very well. I read somewhere that with older animals, if you're going to change their name, try to make it sound similar to their first one. I looked up names that sounded similar to Davie and came across Stevie; my parents and I agreed it was perfect for a couple reasons. Mostly just play on words - we're fans of singers Cat Stevens and Stevie Nicks, so the name Cat Stevie Nicks was born.

On our way back home from the shelter, my dad and I rushed to get some cat food, a bed, litter, and a litter box. We hadn't exactly planned to fall completely in love with Stevie and take her home with us the same day, so we weren't super prepared. I ran through Walmart to get everything and we went home. My mom was out with Mei for a walk so we could get Stevie acquainted to the house without the stress of meeting Mei as well. The poor baby was so thirsty, she drank more water than I've seen her drink since the second I put a little water dish down for her, and she ate some of the wet food we'd bought her. And although she was a little wary of Mei at first, she came around quick enough. They had a mutual agreement to pretty much just ignore each other.

After a few weeks Stevie gradually moved from the spare bedroom to my room, and we found a good place for her food dishes on the kitchen counter where Mei couldn't get to them. She enjoys hopping from the dining table, to the island, to the counters. She also started leaping from my window sill onto my bed, the top half of a bunk bed, and sleeping under the covers with me. From there we learned she has an affinity for a lot of dairy products, especially cheese, and that was when we knew she was meant to be a part of our family.

Not too long after we adopted Stevie, my mom commented on how it looked like she had chosen me as her person. My dad replied, "I'm not surprised. Nat was the one who went straight to her and just picked her up. Stevie knows that."

Stevie also really enjoys spending time outside. We have a little couch out on our back deck she'll sleep on all day when the weather's good, soaking up sunlight. She loves to explore, too, creeping into the neighbor's backyard where smaller birds prefer to gather, and she watches them intently. She almost exclusively drinks water out of my glass now. She gets cheese and licks of ice cream, her favorites, for special treats. And a few times she has run off with bits of ham she steals off a plate. So maybe it wasn't such a good idea to allow her on the counters after all.

Stevie is definitely my cat. We're the best of friends. I can't imagine my life without her.

I'm grateful my dad heard about her, and that we were able to give Stevie a loving, safe home after what she's been through. She's a part of our family, and not just because she shares our love for cheese.

Pet adoption is important. We can help pets who have been abandoned, no matter the intentions behind it, and give them new homes where they are loved and cared for.