Cat Pimp = me

In keeping with this week's animal theme, I believe I found a home for a kitten last night! My friend Nicole (of the house she and her husband have renovated and made gorgeous!) found herself with 13 stray kittens. Some 8 weeks old, some 6 and some like 4. Lots of kittens.

Since my dear sister Jessica lives in the Philadelphia area and has always had an obsessive love of the cat - she still cries for her first cat, Other, when she hears "Wind Beneath My Wings" - I decided to hook a sista up. With a kitten. Because I'm cool like that.

But on a more serious note, I think it's fabulous that Nicole has taken in the stray kittens and is finding them homes and caring for them. Some sounded like they were in pretty rough shape, but she's nursing them back to health. And it's awesome that my sister is willing to take in a stray kitten and give it a loving home where it can play with her cat Lua and have a life of leisure versus a life on the street.

My cat Harold was adopted from the ASPCA shelter on 92nd St. back in 2005 when I moved to Manhattan.

I'd decided to adopt a shelter cat and had been perusing the online listings on Petfinder.com which lists animals that are being held in various shelters around the country. You can search for your area! At the ASPCA, they had a butterscotch cat named Felix that I thought looked fairly adorable in his picture, but as with any Internet dating service, once I went down to the shelter on a Saturday morning to meet him with my sister Julie (not the cat sister), I was disappointed. There was no *spark*. Felix and I were not meant to be.

Let me back up - when you get to the shelter you have to fill out an application for adoption and then have your information verified by an outside source. We had them call my dad who said sure she can have a cat! And then we got to meet the critters.

After Felix was a letdown (sorry Felix) we met a bunch of other lovely beasties. Some were shy. Some were pet-whores, ready to rub up against anyone who was within 2 feet of them. Some were aloof and very prissy indeed. In the front of the shelter they had a room they called "The Diva Room."

That's where I met Harold.

He was lounging on a carpeted pedestal and a bit of a filthy mess. He hadn't been grooming himself so he was dirty and greasy. He had a cold so he was a bit snotty and sneezy. But he turned up his little green eyes and looked at me and went "Meow?" and I started scratching his head and that was it. I went and met a few others, but then went back and saw Harold again and had decided he was coming to live with me in my wee 5th floor walk-up apartment about 10 blocks south. Maybe not stylin', but way better than the alley where he'd been found semi-starved and sickly.

Paperwork signed. Check turned over for adoption fee. Cat in cardboard carrying box. Done.

Julie and I carried him home along First Avenue and stopped at the grocery store for some food. I'd already gotten a litter box and a wee cat bed in anticipation of the event. We lugged him up the stairs, opened the box and out he jumped. "Meow."

Harold took a few minutes to survey the miniature apartment he'd just found himself in - bathroom, kitchen/living room, bed... Then he jumped up on my bed, saw the little round cat bed in the windowsill, and immediately curled up in it and took a nap.

Home. Safe. Awesome.

I hope Jessica's new cat is just as happy.