In Search Of: Part Two: Ronald
This past Sunday the plan was to visit......Little Shelter.
The same shelter that I adopted Tyler from all the way back in 2000.
Can lightning strike twice?
Can I find another Tyler?
As is usually the case with shelters, they only have limited numbers of open hours, and Little Shelter was no exception. On weekends, their open hours are 12-5. With that in mind, I got an early start so we were sure to be at the Shelter just as they opened. I wanted to spend as much time as possible with the cats, in the hopes of finding just the right fit.
If you recall from one of my early blogs, Little Shelter houses their cats in "the cattery."
No cages.
No restrictions.
Just......cats.
Cats.
Cats.
....and more cats.
Get the point? TONS OF CATS.
I really shouldn't eat cookies before I blog. Sugar rush.
Anyway, being a pleasant day, I took the scenic route and we arrived at Little Shelter precisely as they opened at noon. In fact, we had to wait a moment for the gates to open. Now I know how those oddballs who wait all night for the next iPhone feel.
We entered the shelter complex to find that little had changed in the 16+ years since I first met the old man. Actually, not a single thing changed. It was a comforting sight.
As in 2000, we entered the main office. I walked in like I owned the place.
"Hi, I adopted a cat from you guys before, Tyler, back in 2000."
Did I honestly think they'd remember him? I mean, to me, he was the greatest cat ever and the gold standard for every cat I will ever adopt until my dying day, but to them, he was just another cat among the THREE HUNDRED CATS they're trying to get a home for.
"Oh, great. Welcome back!" One of the ladies replied. No, they didn't remember Tyler. No matter, I pulled out my iPhone and showed her his famous "Tyler sitting funny" August, 2003 photo.
"He's quite the character."
You don't know the half of it lady. Don't you read my blog?
After explaining what type of cat we were looking for and filling out a new application (Where will this cat sleep? Really? With me hopefully!) a "cattery employee" named Dorothy (who remembered Gail, the volunteer who escorted me back in 2000) met Ashley and I and another couple and escorted us to the cattery.
It was astounding to me how the cattery had not changed ONE BIT in over 16 years. Exactly the same little building behind the dog kennels, behind a mountain of pet carriers. The same screen door that Tyler was waiting for me behind all those years ago.
I could still close my eyes and picture the old man. Proudly waiting by the door to "choose" me. His regal tuxedo coat, those expressive eyes that stared down deep into my soul. He knew I was the one and that was that. He knew he had found his forever home. I'll never see in another soul on this earth what I saw in that cat. Never.
No Tyler this time waiting for us. Just.....cats. All shapes, sizes, ages, and temperaments.
The first thing you were hit with was....the smell. Mind you, the cattery was very well maintained. Or as well maintained as well meaning volunteers could do in a small house-like building filled with cats. The inside was clean, the cats were, as always, well cared for, and they all looked comfortable and for the most part happy. Despite the smell of....cats.....I was as impressed as I was when I met Tyler. These people run a GREAT shelter.
Still sticking to our idea of trying to adopt a young adult male (Ashley wanted a kitten but I was less enthused with that idea, for Sophie's sake) we were first brought into the 6 month old room. There were a few cute cats, but most were asleep and not that interested in us. We were not chosen. I was anxious to move on.
Next, Dorothy whisked us into what she referred to as the "teenager room." In here were cats closer to one year old, not quite ready for the main "general population" rooms but close. These "teenagers" had an enclosed deck to themselves to get fresh air. Again, all adorable, but no cat stuck out to either Ashley or I. My disappointment grew. Even Ashley was giving me that "It's up to you, but I'm not feeling this" look she always gives me.
Losing my patience (I know half of you just laughed) I blurted out to Dorothy:
"Would you mind if I jump off the tour and just go hang out in general population?"
"Oh, sure!" a surprised Dorothy replied. Adult cats are always adopted less often so my interest in the adults seemed to catch her off guard.
I'm a firm believer in giving an overlooked adult cat a chance. Tiger was an overlooked 6 year old boy and adopting him was one of the best decisions I ever made.
Out I went from the "teenager room" into the general population area, which consisted of one large room with a smaller room off to the side. The rooms had plenty of windows, plenty of shelves, plenty of cat beds and cat trees, and plenty of cats. Some large, some small, some calico, some orange, some tabby, some tuxedo (none as handsome as Tyler of course) all about the room. Some were sleeping, some were just sitting and staring out the window. Some squirrels outside caught the attention of about 5 of them, who ran to one window. Others were eating out of large communal cat bowls that everyone (the cats, not the volunteers) were meant to share.
As soon as I entered the room, a large tuxedo male walked up to me. Rubbing, purring, this was a big boy.
"Oh, that's Pookie." Dorothy explained as she entered the room. I think that's what his name was. "He's 9 and has crystals."
He seemed to love attention.
"My Jackson had your condition, take care of yourself" I said as I knelt down to pet his head and scratched his ears.
As soon as I started petting Pookie, a slender tabby cat came walking towards me.
He immediately got my attention.
He looked young and had a tiny, pointy face for a male tabby. He seemed happy if a bit reserved, and rubbed me with his head, his tail sticking straight up. I turned from Pookie to pet my new friend. Squinting his ears, this tabby seemed to really like having his head pet.
I turned away for a second and little tabby boy was gone, having hopped onto a sh,elf to talk to a small tuxedo cat. More than talk, they seemed to be grooming each other.
This boy really does get along with other cats. Check mark.
I walked over to the area on the top shelf where he was curled up and took some pics:
I sat with him, petting his head, and was drawn to him.
"What's this little dude's name?" I asked a different volunteer, a cheerful woman named Lauren.
"Oh, that's.....what's his name.....oh yeah....this is Ronald."
Ronald.
RONALD?
McDonald?
Now, this is a bad cat name. Sorry, no offense to the lovely staff at Little Shelter. I get how hard it is to name cats, and his was not as bad a name as the Billy Crystal name Tiger went by until I met him, but still.
Fucking Ronald????
Ashley came over to check out Ronald, and even she whispered to me "we'd have to change his name."
No shit.
Ronald was just relaxing in his bed. I was struck by how laid back and unassuming he was. Nothing seemed to bother him. It was essential that any cat I bring home to succeed Jackson not have issues with other cats. Ronald seemed to have that quality in spades. I gently stroked his head and his ears, which he seemed to enjoy as he gently purred and squinted his eyes. He was so relaxed, so calm. So......chill.
"Wanna get out of here and live in Floral Park?" I asked Ronald. As if I expected him to nod in reply.
Ronald simply squinted back at me, placing a paw on my arm as I pet his head and back.
I seemed to have been chosen.
The same shelter that I adopted Tyler from all the way back in 2000.
Can lightning strike twice?
Can I find another Tyler?
As is usually the case with shelters, they only have limited numbers of open hours, and Little Shelter was no exception. On weekends, their open hours are 12-5. With that in mind, I got an early start so we were sure to be at the Shelter just as they opened. I wanted to spend as much time as possible with the cats, in the hopes of finding just the right fit.
If you recall from one of my early blogs, Little Shelter houses their cats in "the cattery."
No cages.
No restrictions.
Just......cats.
Cats.
Cats.
....and more cats.
Get the point? TONS OF CATS.
I really shouldn't eat cookies before I blog. Sugar rush.
Anyway, being a pleasant day, I took the scenic route and we arrived at Little Shelter precisely as they opened at noon. In fact, we had to wait a moment for the gates to open. Now I know how those oddballs who wait all night for the next iPhone feel.
We entered the shelter complex to find that little had changed in the 16+ years since I first met the old man. Actually, not a single thing changed. It was a comforting sight.
As in 2000, we entered the main office. I walked in like I owned the place.
"Hi, I adopted a cat from you guys before, Tyler, back in 2000."
Did I honestly think they'd remember him? I mean, to me, he was the greatest cat ever and the gold standard for every cat I will ever adopt until my dying day, but to them, he was just another cat among the THREE HUNDRED CATS they're trying to get a home for.
"Oh, great. Welcome back!" One of the ladies replied. No, they didn't remember Tyler. No matter, I pulled out my iPhone and showed her his famous "Tyler sitting funny" August, 2003 photo.
"He's quite the character."
You don't know the half of it lady. Don't you read my blog?
After explaining what type of cat we were looking for and filling out a new application (Where will this cat sleep? Really? With me hopefully!) a "cattery employee" named Dorothy (who remembered Gail, the volunteer who escorted me back in 2000) met Ashley and I and another couple and escorted us to the cattery.
It was astounding to me how the cattery had not changed ONE BIT in over 16 years. Exactly the same little building behind the dog kennels, behind a mountain of pet carriers. The same screen door that Tyler was waiting for me behind all those years ago.
I could still close my eyes and picture the old man. Proudly waiting by the door to "choose" me. His regal tuxedo coat, those expressive eyes that stared down deep into my soul. He knew I was the one and that was that. He knew he had found his forever home. I'll never see in another soul on this earth what I saw in that cat. Never.
No Tyler this time waiting for us. Just.....cats. All shapes, sizes, ages, and temperaments.
The first thing you were hit with was....the smell. Mind you, the cattery was very well maintained. Or as well maintained as well meaning volunteers could do in a small house-like building filled with cats. The inside was clean, the cats were, as always, well cared for, and they all looked comfortable and for the most part happy. Despite the smell of....cats.....I was as impressed as I was when I met Tyler. These people run a GREAT shelter.
Still sticking to our idea of trying to adopt a young adult male (Ashley wanted a kitten but I was less enthused with that idea, for Sophie's sake) we were first brought into the 6 month old room. There were a few cute cats, but most were asleep and not that interested in us. We were not chosen. I was anxious to move on.
Next, Dorothy whisked us into what she referred to as the "teenager room." In here were cats closer to one year old, not quite ready for the main "general population" rooms but close. These "teenagers" had an enclosed deck to themselves to get fresh air. Again, all adorable, but no cat stuck out to either Ashley or I. My disappointment grew. Even Ashley was giving me that "It's up to you, but I'm not feeling this" look she always gives me.
Losing my patience (I know half of you just laughed) I blurted out to Dorothy:
"Would you mind if I jump off the tour and just go hang out in general population?"
"Oh, sure!" a surprised Dorothy replied. Adult cats are always adopted less often so my interest in the adults seemed to catch her off guard.
I'm a firm believer in giving an overlooked adult cat a chance. Tiger was an overlooked 6 year old boy and adopting him was one of the best decisions I ever made.
Out I went from the "teenager room" into the general population area, which consisted of one large room with a smaller room off to the side. The rooms had plenty of windows, plenty of shelves, plenty of cat beds and cat trees, and plenty of cats. Some large, some small, some calico, some orange, some tabby, some tuxedo (none as handsome as Tyler of course) all about the room. Some were sleeping, some were just sitting and staring out the window. Some squirrels outside caught the attention of about 5 of them, who ran to one window. Others were eating out of large communal cat bowls that everyone (the cats, not the volunteers) were meant to share.
As soon as I entered the room, a large tuxedo male walked up to me. Rubbing, purring, this was a big boy.
"Oh, that's Pookie." Dorothy explained as she entered the room. I think that's what his name was. "He's 9 and has crystals."
He seemed to love attention.
"My Jackson had your condition, take care of yourself" I said as I knelt down to pet his head and scratched his ears.
As soon as I started petting Pookie, a slender tabby cat came walking towards me.
He immediately got my attention.
He looked young and had a tiny, pointy face for a male tabby. He seemed happy if a bit reserved, and rubbed me with his head, his tail sticking straight up. I turned from Pookie to pet my new friend. Squinting his ears, this tabby seemed to really like having his head pet.
I turned away for a second and little tabby boy was gone, having hopped onto a sh,elf to talk to a small tuxedo cat. More than talk, they seemed to be grooming each other.
This boy really does get along with other cats. Check mark.
I walked over to the area on the top shelf where he was curled up and took some pics:
I sat with him, petting his head, and was drawn to him.
"What's this little dude's name?" I asked a different volunteer, a cheerful woman named Lauren.
"Oh, that's.....what's his name.....oh yeah....this is Ronald."
Ronald.
RONALD?
McDonald?
Now, this is a bad cat name. Sorry, no offense to the lovely staff at Little Shelter. I get how hard it is to name cats, and his was not as bad a name as the Billy Crystal name Tiger went by until I met him, but still.
Fucking Ronald????
Ashley came over to check out Ronald, and even she whispered to me "we'd have to change his name."
No shit.
Ronald was just relaxing in his bed. I was struck by how laid back and unassuming he was. Nothing seemed to bother him. It was essential that any cat I bring home to succeed Jackson not have issues with other cats. Ronald seemed to have that quality in spades. I gently stroked his head and his ears, which he seemed to enjoy as he gently purred and squinted his eyes. He was so relaxed, so calm. So......chill.
"Wanna get out of here and live in Floral Park?" I asked Ronald. As if I expected him to nod in reply.
Ronald simply squinted back at me, placing a paw on my arm as I pet his head and back.
I seemed to have been chosen.
As Dorothy approached me, smiling, I nodded in Ronald's direction.
"Ronald's chosen me."
"Oh great!" she responded. "He's so quiet, a little shy, but so sweet. He loves other cats. I think he'll make a great fit. Would you like to fill out an application?"
Yes. Ronald was going to get a forever home.
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