A week or so ago I was at the vet clinic with Zoey, one of my various lovely felines, because she was limping - short story shorter, she’s fine.
But while in the waiting room, I read a heartbreaking notice, complete with photo. It seems that someone had a beautiful rag doll cat they couldn’t keep any more. No details on why were given, but the text said, “I hope I can find someone who will love him as much as I do in the time I have left with him.”
Well, crap. It sounded like someone was terminally ill and needed a new home for their beloved cat before they died. I blinked away tears, but didn’t take down the phone number.
Except … I was haunted by the story. Fast forward a couple of days, and I called the vet asking if they could give me the number on the notice, which they did.
I called. The cat, a gorgeous creature, was brought to my house by his grateful owner. And it turns out that the beloved cat is being relinquished not due to some tragedy like a diagnosis of terminal illness, but because his owners, recent imports from Colorado, are doing an Air B&B in their new Hawai’i home, and the cat that they love so much is scared of the chickens and peeing on the mattress. Well, we can’t have cat pee on an Air B&B mattress!
None of this is the fault of the cat, who is an over-the-top beautiful seal point rag doll. The sort of ridiculously purebred cat I would secretly crave but would never shell out money for, when there are so many deserving cats in shelters needing a home.
Well, this cat needs a home too, it seems. So now, he’s mine. He’s got an awesome, placid personality. Meet “Ragtime Charlie.” I love him.
