Friday, June 02, 2006

The Story Of Curly

(this post originally appeared in late February, 2006, but in honor of Curly's upcoming birthday, I thought I'd repeat it, here)

Or, more appropriately, "You (go) to Happy Tails!"

I updated the post from yesterday to plug them, but seriously -- if you live in the Nashville area, and have room in your life for a pet (and a very few bucks), please go visit them. Their website is here, and they never have a shortage of dogs and cats who need good, responsible and loving homes.

I've been through a lot of crap the last 3+ years, and I really don't know what would have kept me as (relatively) sane as I am, had it not been for Curly -- my too-cool-for-school off-the-rack brown tabby (whose photos are plastered all over this blog), who was rescued by Happy Tails back in late 2002.

For those who haven't heard the story, it goes like this: My wingnut friend, J.J., and his awesome wife Erica (pictured at right, with former Tennessee Titans WR Derrick Mason), convinced me -- after seeing how well their cat and I got along (and both of them knowing that I'd recently had to euthanize another cat who was briefly in my care, B.B. -- another story) -- that I should consider getting another cat. Since they'd adopted their kitty from Happy Tails, they talked me into driving down with them to Franklin one day to check into it all. Erica really just wanted an excuse to go back to see and interact with all the kitties, I am sure. :)

Anyway, we arrive, and it's an unseasonably cool, rainy early June day. We go directly into the cat room, which has about 40 cats in it... about a dozen are wandering about the room, or lounging on the many elaborate cat perches therein. The rest are in cages (or "condos," as the Happy Tails folx are wont to call them), along the walls. I start in one corner, visiting each caged kitty. About a third of the way through the room, I happen upon Curly's cage. He's crying pitiably, and when I put my hand up to the cage to pet him through the wire, he starts immediately licking my fingers. That was just too unusual. So, we ask if he can be let out into the room, and, after a quick "compatibility check" of the room, the staff lets him out. I get a good look at him, and pet him some more, and then, I continue visiting with the rest of the kitties.

I was in the room for at least another 20-30 minutes, visiting with all the cats. During the entire time, Curly literally never strayed more than a few feet from me. I couldn't help but notice that he was following me around the room, and I finally had to admit that he had chosen me. I couldn't ignore that, so I filled out the paperwork, wrote a check, and he went home with me in a cardboard cat carrier that day.

Just a few weeks later, I'd be resigning the best job of my life, due to ethical incompatibility... and a year or so later, losing my home. Curly was with me through all that, and beyond. On my worst day, he never fails to make me smile -- or, more often, laugh out loud, due to his antics, which only other cats can fully understand.

Honestly -- don't you need a Curly in your life?
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4 comments :

Anonymous said...

I love this story! I'm so glad there was an angel on your shoulder the day Curly picked you. Seems it was meant to be that you get through all the tough times and that Curly would be an entree to internal resources you would need.

Your posts add so much to my life. And Curly is the best!

Please hang in there and keep the faith.

Anonymous said...

They do choose us. Our first cat we bought from a breeder, but since then it's been strays who've shown up at our/mine doorstep, just knowing that I'm the human for them (on occasion I'm not, but I know who could be). They are faithful companions.

Pen Ultimate said...

Sandy-LA 90034 -- Yeah, it was meant to be. :)

Buckeye, Dealer of Rare Coins -- Yep, they do choose us. That's why I feel so bad about the li'l black kitty -- who, incidentally, I ran into the other day as I was heading to the laundrette for a WiFi hookup. The last time I'd seen him, he was really skittish, and ran off; this time, he was all lovey-dovey. I must've petted him for a good 15 minutes. At least it seems someone is feeding him, but he seems to be living outdoors, and is an intact male who'll be of breeding age any day now, if not already. Were I not so severely broke, I'd take him to the Nashville Humane Society, have him neutered & checked out, and try to adopt him.
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Anonymous said...

Curly's a lucky, lucky guy to have found you, Jeff; and from his happy demeanor, I think he knows it.

For the record, I have two beautiful brown cats AND a pug, and they are a great comfort during hard times (in my case, illness in the family).

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