Ori v. Dragon

Ori came from the streets. Or, more accurately, from the porch. Set outside by an overwhelmed owner, she waited all night in the rain until discovered by Sucker #1 (me) who promptly threw her and her filthy cage into my car and drove off after a twelve hour overnight shift. She was a shivering timid thing who curled up against my neck for the ride, watching the sun come up as we parked at my house. My intent was to drive her to the shelter after some sleep but she caught my eye for too long and, after a few beats of uninterrupted contact, decided she was part of my menagerie.

She is also the only one of my lot who (perhaps, this is untested) would put up with being in a costume. Colette, the black cat with a violent streak, would probably take off an arm if I attempted and the only time I’ve tried to put my other cat, a friendly orange tabby with obvious Maine Coon heritage named Wesley, into a sweater he laid on the floor and refused to move. I’ll never forget the languid look of betrayal on his face. A sweater! On him! The horror! I promised him never again and even though I’m not entirely sure he understood I’m a person of my word. My toad is not one for costumes, a little too wild and sensitive, and I don’t think they make costumes for guinea hens. So that leaves Ori, a feisty girl that I like to believe has a vast imagination to match her endless energy.

Ways Ori is like a dragon: She likes to hoard treasure, absconding with anything small enough that she can squirrel away with her tiny paws. Sometimes the height from which she flings herself is almost like she’s flying (though, unlike a dragon, I always catch her). Highly intelligent with a calculating streak, she’s known to get what she wants when she wants it. My favorite example of this is when she decided the room she was in wasn’t big enough for her adventurous spirit and figured out a complex maze to get out, bouncing with absolute glee into the food bowl while my cats looked on in abject horror.

But does Ori trust me enough to let me put an outfit on her? It’s been a mere three months since she was whisked away from her rainy abode and we’ve grown close but...close enough to transform her into a dragon?

The answer: barely. I let her run around for a few hours to hopefully tucker her out to the point that she might just acquiesce to a costume without a fight. No such luck. Initially she was intrigued, snuffing about as I strapped on her wings. Then she performed a maneuver I call “the corkscrew” where she acts like she’s a wine opener swirling up and out of the confines of her costume. A twirl and she’s deposited into my hands sans any dragon apparel. I reapply and she twists again. A devilish game she enjoys quite a bit, become dragon then unbecome one. She prances around and comes back for more.

Maybe one day I will live with a creature that enjoys dress up. I will tenderly craft costumes and do photoshoots, enjoy the fruits of my pet’s patience. Until then, please accept the only photo I could capture of dear Ori before she jettisoned herself out of the soft velcro. One day I will put my sewing skills to use and craft wonderful things. Today is not that day. Today, Ori joins the ranks of pets who refuse to wear anything but their fur. I am disappointed but, in the words of someone wiser than me, it is what it is.