This is Miko. She’s an almost-three-year-old brown tabby who tries her hardest to see what kinds of things she can get away with. Miko claimed this armchair for herself and I call it her “boss chair”.
Miko has quite a personality. I definitely think she’s a weird cat. Her mood can change in an instant so you really have to learn to read her. She doesn’t like being touched or held but likes to know where I am and to be in the same room. Miko will greet me at the door when I come home, and occasionally purr while turning circles around my legs, especially during feeding time.
Here is one of Miko’s favourite pastimes: window-watching.
I had never been a big fan of cats – I’m a dog person. Dogs are loyal and more readily affectionate. Their pack instinct makes them ideal pets to train, if they look to you as alpha. So why do I own a cat?
Here is the kitten who started it all:
Meet Tommy, a purebred Russian White. When this picture was taken, he was about 8 months old. One of my roommates had brought him over for cat-sitting. True to his breed, he was shy at first, but as he became familiar with his surroundings, he ventured out to meet me and was happy to play. He let me pick him up and he napped in my lap while I pet him. He also spent the night sleeping on top of my blankets, while I spent the night limbo-ing betwen sleep and wakefulness because I was afraid to kick him off in my sleep.
After I met Tommy, I found myself searching up about kittens and puppies and looking at many animal shelters. I learned about puppy mills and kitten mills and pet store stock. I read about different dog breeds and different cat breeds and marked my favourites. Eventually, I found myself a position volunteering at a humane society as a kitten feeder.
Let me tell you, it was impossible for me to not fall in love with kittens after spending initially 12 hours a week with them, then around 4 hours when my summer job started. Despite the fact that most of them were sick and had pitiful gummed-up eyes and dribbly noses. Despite the stench of kitty poop from the food they digested. Despite the fact that almost all the kittens resembled dirty little rags because they had no mother to clean them up. Despite their clumped fur from walking in their food and litter alike.
There was something inherently satisfying in filling the bellies of these little furballs. I watched some of them start off shaped like peanuts with an amusingly large proportioned head, grow into properly curious little explorers, and eventually into devious escape artists.
Miko was a kitten at the humane society. Here is a blog that I’d started when I’d first gotten her. As you can see, I was not the most diligent blogger. I promise to do better this time around, though!