about the cat

We adopted the cat over Mother's Day weekend.

A shelter worker suggested we meet her. She was a year-old stray who had charmed the shelter staff with her sweet nature. She had been handled nonstop since the shelter opened that morning and was visibly tired. Within a few minutes of sitting with her, she climbed into my lap and fell asleep. After a while, she tried out Seatmate's lap and dropped off again. We felt sort of chosen.

We picked her up a few days later, after her spay operation. She did a quick recon of the apartment and found the bed. She claimed the space between the pillows as her own and curled up. She seemed sort of dopey and we wondered how long anesthesia takes to wear off entirely.

She perked up abruptly when Seatmate offered her a cat treat. In an instant, she was digging into the canister with a slender paw, nimble as a raccoon. Seatmate let her dig out a few treats, mainly because it was so funny to watch. She's very clever. We're going to end up with child locks on the cabinets.

Otherwise, she spent her first few days sleeping, mostly lying against one of us. Yesterday, she woke up and started exploring. We know because she kept knocking things over. Today, she's getting up to speed. Seatmate woke to find all manner of items on the floor. I like to sleep a bit after he leaves for work, but the cat was zooming around as if she'd had crack for breakfast. "The cat alarm went off," I told Seatmate via instant message.

But she's dozing next to me now, long legs stretched out, breathing easily. I wish I could go back to sleep.