I've never had to look for a cat. All my life, they've come to me: a neighbor, sister, friend with kittens, a stray welcoming himself in on my birthday, etc. This time I called a local cat-rescue organization, and was told that they would not let me adopt from them because I already had adult cats. WTF? I came home from work today with one adult cat asleep on my son's lap, the kitten perched on his neck, another adult cat snoring on the sofa. Problem? None that I can see. I've always done it this way. And it's always worked.
Another kitten-adoption site required pre-adoption paperwork, including an agreement I had to sign, and at the bottom it said: This is a Legal and Binding Document. Um. Don't think so. The irony here, of course, is that any woman of child-bearing age can get herself knocked up any old time, but just dare her to try to adopt a kitten! It's PETA gone wild.
This time, as always, the kitten came to me. I'd put out "feelers", and my younger son, in one of his forays to, as he said "check out the hot chicks", heard a "hot chick" mention kittens. KITTENS! His kitten radar picked up the signal, we hooked up (but not N. and the Hot Chick), and Sunday the Hot Chick and I met for the Kitten Exchange. It all felt very Black Market, after the shenanigans I went through with the Official Kitten Adoption Agencies.
And there was no "re-homing" fee. Re-homing! Who thought of this one?! I "rehomed" myself about a month ago. And honestly, I should've collected a massive fee. Like, a pay-off-my-mortgage-fee. Just sayin'. I had to adopt myself. Still waiting to sign the agreement, which, in this case, will be a legal document.
Anyway, this new kitten is probably the best tonic for this battered soul. Her purr rumbles up and out of her tiny bone-and-fur framework, impossibly loud for such a wee thing. She screams when I pick her up. Mutters and squeaks at other times.
If you're a cat person, you must check this out: