I brought my rescue cat home today. Minnie has been renamed Olivia. She really doesn't look like a Minnie anyway, does she? Actually, I should have named her Houdini.
She has done her best to initiate me into the world of cat parenting. I live in a third floor apartment. I lost her four times today. No, really. Lost--as in could not find her anywhere. And I looked--everywhere. She had taken to hiding behind the refrigerator, so that was the first place I looked. No Olivia. I was mystified as to where she could have gone. How does a fully-grown black and white cat completely disappear in a one-bedroom apartment?
Then I heard a little bump somewhere above my head. I was standing in the kitchen at the time. I began to open the doors to the kitchen cabinets. Sure enough, from the far corner on the top shelf appeared two green eyes. She was quite cozy in her little hiding space until I dragged her butt out of there.
An hour later--where's Olivia? Well, I'm trainable. I looked in the cabinet first. You guessed it. There she was. I removed her again, and then figured out how she was getting in there. Seems whoever installed the cabinets didn't finish off the ends of those shelves because they were hidden anyway. Well, from everyone except Olivia. She figured out if she made it onto the counter and stepped up onto the plastic containers filled with cereal, she could slip up behind the cabinets and into her secret place. (I can only hope she continues to find the litter box as easily as she found this tiny little opening to squeeze through into her hiding space.)
But while I was up on the ladder examining the cabinets, I saw the collection of dust on the top. So I retrieved the hand-vac and proceeded to suck up the dust. Cats are frightened by vacuum cleaners. So, Olivia takes another powder. She can't be in the cabinet, so I search again behind the fridge, but to no avail. I am totally at a loss. When I return to the living room where I had draped the sofa and one chair with sheets until I see if she's a furniture cat, I see a small bump beneath the sheet on the sofa and it appears to be breathing. Yup, it's Olivia. Snug in her safe place away from the vaccuum. Well, at least she's exercising me.
The fourth time, I had left my bedroom door open. Sure enough, I peered under the bedskirt and, from the other side, Olivia peered back at me.
As soon as I sat down to write and ignored her completely, however, she came out to rub against my ankles and roll on my feet.
I think she's going to let me stay, but we'll see if she changes the locks tomorrow while I'm at work.