Her name was Shortie

So, I finally worked up the nerve to visit a pet place.  They had a section dedicated to arranging adoptions from the local shelter, including quite a few cats on display.  I was pretty much there before anyone else, so, I had the chance to prod at every cat without interruption.

I have this thing I do, it’s a good quick check to see if a cat is going to like me.  I poke them in the nose.  … Well, not really poke them, but, I put my finger close enough for them to give it a quick inspection.  Depending on the reaction I get, I have enough of an idea if this cat is okay with me or not.

2 cats in particular responded rather positively.  Socrates, a black&white cat with tons of energy and an odd penchant of sweeping the floor.  And, Shortie; a little calm one with a mix of tabby stripes and tortoise shell, seafoam green eyes, and (being a manx) no tail.

She quite calmly started rubbing on her cage bars, receptive to every scritch and scratch I had to offer.  Rolled around a bit.  Swatted at me a bit.  Really, all that little cat stuff that says “Hey! I like you.”

When the people from the shelter came in to bring more cats, I gave them a bit of space so that I wasn’t an obstacle.  While I was away, Shortie was making a bit of a racket.  I come back to poke at her some more and she slips right back into full on cuddles mode.

This is the cat I want.  A cat that likes me.

Enough time passed that the place was crowded and the staffers asked us all inside the room to come out so that some adopters can see if they get along with the cat the plan to adopt.  When the staffer got to me, she first poked at Shortie and told her she’s getting adopted.


I whined with as much voice I generally use in public, “But ~I~ want Shortie~e~e…”

“Oh?  Well, there’s still a chance.  Who knows?”

So, I step out while a hyper little boy and his mom step in… The boy chanting “Shortie! Shortie! Shortie!” on his way in.  Obviously quite excited.

I watched from the other side of the large window as they played with her.  Mom showing her son how to be gentle.  The run her around a bit using a laser pointer.  She seemed reluctant to do things now that she was out of her cage.

I’d spend the near half-hour poking at the pets outside the cat room.  One particular cat being extremely reclusive.  A Chihuahua which… Pretty much did what those little ankle biters do.

I didn’t have a good idea who was on staff, who worked for the store, or who was shopping for a pet.  It was pretty much chaos.  The boy and his mother finally come out and they work on their adoption paperwork.  Finally they go outside for whatever, maybe an ATM or something.  I ask the lady who was handling the papers if they really were going to get Shortie.

They were.

Best I could do by then was just go.

That’s all.


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8 Responses to Her name was Shortie

  1. Amber says:

    I’m so sorry hun, you had your heart set on her. Is getting Socrates not still an option?

    • Imnotgoing Sideways says:

      We wouldn’t have gotten along. Socrates was too hyper. I wouldn’t have been able to provide the stimulation he requires.

  2. sandra says:

    Seems to me they should have let Shortie choose. I mean, you sit in the room with your rivals, then they put Shortie exactly in the middle and you both call him and see who he goes to. Anyway, you can have some interesting times returning to the shelter until you do get the one for you.

    • Imnotgoing Sideways says:

      Update on the situation. The shelter Emailed me to let me know that they have 2 cats I may be interested in. Sammy and Lolita. There’s a chance that I get a mewmew before this weekend.

  3. Sean Williams says:

    I wish you luck on that Immy.

  4. sandra says:

    My money is on Lolita

  5. sandra says:

    One other thing I mean to write before. Most people would not be able to resist the temptation to call this thread “How I didn’t Get Shorty”. I have no doubt Immy thought of that and decided against it. Which is kind of symbolic in a way…

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