Chouli's story
Around December 1993, I decided that I wanted to get a cat. I went to the humane society where I lived at the time to pick out one. I fell in love with one: a huge tortoisehell who was so loving. I went to talk to the shelter worker and found out that the cat was pregnant, and I couldn't adopt her until she had her kittens and they were weaned. I put my name on a waiting list to adopt her.
When I checked back a few weeks later in January, I was told that she had had a respiratory problem; after she had her kitens, she was put to sleep. I was angered-- I was waiting to adopt this cat, and they just put her to sleep without telling me?
I don't remember if I looked at the other cats that day or came back later. Whichever was the case, when I next looked at the available shelter cats, I chose a one-year old tortoiseshell who looked a bit like the cat I initially planned to adopt. Not that I chose Chouli for that reason alone. I remember taking her out of the cage and holding her. She calmly lay in my arms, and I knew this was the cat I wanted.
I named her Chouli (short for patchouli, since the reddish-brown color of her tortoiseshell- coloring is kind of patchouli-colored). I wasn't supposed to have a cat in my apartment, but I was disgruntled with the landlord and didn't care. It would be an understatement to say that I was feeling really down that winter, and Chouli was one of the few things that could genuinely make me happy at the time. I loved it when she chased her tail, spinning in circles until flopping onto the floor.
Chouli is now 5-&-a-half years old. She's gotten lazier and fatter, but she and Molly, my other cat, still chase each other up and down the hallway. Chouli is a bit neurotic: pet me, feed me, pet me now! She always greets me at the door with a meow when I come home. She's still kind of shy around other people. And occasionally, she still chases her tail.
Molly's story
My friend's sister found a long-haired calico kitten near a dumpster. She lived in a dorm and couldn't keep her, so my friend adopted her. She had the kitten for a few months, and then one day her landlord drove by and saw it sitting in the window. No pets were allowed. I then became the babysitter of the kitten, simply called "Kitty" who was now about 9 months old.
I tried not to get attached to her, since I knew this was only a temporary arrangement. Months turned into more than a year, so finally asked if I could have her permanently. My friend and her husband rarely saw the cat anyways since they lived out of town for a large portion of the time I'd had her. I had definately become attached to her, and so was Chouli. The kitten, who was now a grown cat, became mine and became Molly.
Molly is more than a bit mischievious. She likes to bite holes in bread sacks, knock over wastebaskets, and generally wreck havoc. She loves to play, and will often sit by her wire/yarn toy until I drag it across the floor so she can chase it. Molly seems to live her life as if it were a zen koan. She once managed to get trapped inside a paper bag: I saw a bag tumbled across the floor and a bit-ruffled Molly finally rolled out.
Whenever I visit my parents, I always take Molly and Chouli with me. Once while there I went to the grocery, and my dad told me Molly paced around, looking for me, meowing.
Now my friend and her husband have a new baby. Molly would never fit in that household. She has to be the center of attention.
Last updated: 10 July 1998.
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