Psycho-boy Jake

I'd been putting off taking Jake in to get his shots. Handling a carry cage with a large writhing cat in it seemed daunting. But mostly I didn't want to do it as he'd been a practice cat at a vet school and earning his trust has been a long road. It went well -- the slow and gentle care he got actually made me a bit jealous.

I adopted Jake about eight months ago. When I had my big flare this last year, I knew from the past that I'd be sidelined for a long time -- hanging out by myself at home when not at work. I wanted some company. I looked online at cats for adoption for quite a while before finding him. I was looking for a cat not socialized to kids, dogs, and other cats. One that would thrive in my quiet place and being alone when I'm gone. One that was possibly a bit aloof.

The woman running the animal rescue place explained to me how traumatic it was being a practice cat at a vet school. Having been "handled" a lot by the medical system and being half a year out from staples in my head, I felt a kinship to him. She pulled him out of his cage and handed him to me. He was growling but reluctantly went along with it which was good -- he was heavy and I was weak. I knew he was the cat.

Friends with illnessses had suggested to me that I get an animal for companionship and comfort. They spoke of the how their pets "knew" when they weren't feeling well and would come to them. I'm not sure what I expected, however, the first time I cried in front of him he got up and disdainfully walked out of the room. I told him that there was a cage waiting for him at the shelter -- he didn't appear concerned.

A couple months after adopting him, I had a long day at the hospital. Unpleasant tests and pushing on through my fatigue zone took it's toll. My pal drove me home. I got on the floor to pet Jake, he walked away after a bit. I stayed laying on the floor for half an hour. Not upset just empty. No energy. No reason or inclination to struggle to get up. Eventually Jake came and curled up with his back against my stomach assuming a protective stance. It was the first time he really reached out to me. Not terribly affectionate, somewhat self-conscious, but oh so sweet. He's steadily become more affectionate interspersed with wild psycho episodes. What interesting company. Perfect.

A couple years ago my pal Ann called and was talking about the cats she'd adopted. She swore that she wasn't one of those "crazy cat ladies". I was unconvinced after 10 minutes when she was still talking about her cats. So, I'll come out and directly confess, "I am one of those crazy cat ladies."

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