Four years ago today, I adopted the adorable ball of fluff you may have seen around my blog looking very sassy. In honor of her adoptiversary, here is the story of how we met.
I wasn't even ready to adopt a cat. I had just moved back to Austin and found a new job. I had my own apartment for the first time, but instead of a couch I had a pile of pillows and instead of a table I had a plastic box. It was an extremely classy period of my life.
I come from a long line of crazy cat people: when my parents got together they had nine cats, growing up we always had four. Knowing that I wanted to adopt eventually, I went down to the animal shelter with my dad to check out the situation. We were walking around and I spotted this little bundle of joy.
Wait no, that's not right. Here she is when she first saw me. Tell me if this doesn't look like love at first sight.
She was seven years old with long silky fur, one orange leg, one black leg, and soft white socks. Even in her tiny cage, she was obviously H.B.I.C., and was way too elegant for this shit. I just...I don't know, I just knew. All the adorable little kittens in the world and I wanted this seven year-old lady cat. One small problem: I was flying to San Francisco for New Year's in two days. I went to the reception desk and asked if I could put her on hold until I got back, but since she was ready to be adopted, the longest they could hold her was 24 hours. And that is how I adopted a cat before I had furniture in my apartment.
Shiloh was not the type to run and hide under the bed when I first brought her home. She lumbered around, poking her pink little nose into every corner before climbing up into my lap. Even that first night, she slept in my bed on my feet, belly up, purring the whole time.
If you know me or even glance at my Instagram, you will know Shiloh is absolutely the light of my life - and she knows it. She was surrendered after seven years with her first family due to "allergies" and "alpha behavior." They also declawed her, which is basically amputation and cruel. Whatever, she lives in the lap of luxury now. Despite not having claws, she has a Scratch Lounge that she LOVES, fancy food, toys, and unlimited pets.
Shiloh is basically the best cat ever. She absolutely loves people, she "talks" a lot, and will jump right into your lap and demand attention. She still sleeps with me every night, either on my feet or snuggled up in the crook of my arm, and though I used to struggle with laying awake at night, her warm, purring body always puts me right to sleep.
Despite looking regal a.f. at all times, Shiloh is actually pretty bad at being a cat. Her balance is terrible, it takes her several attempts to complete a jump, and she totally sucks at hunting. She found a cricket once, and after five minutes of following it around and swatting it, the thing was not even injured. She does not let this get in her way of being incredibly sassy at all times, and has more than once intimidated a dog into submission for invading her space (which left me feeling simultaneously proud and embarrassed).
The thing about having a cat is she has given me a home. Before having her, I bounced around a lot - one year I moved nine times in 12 months - and would jet off for a trip without a second thought. I could wear clothes without having to question if they had an inappropriate amount of cat hair. I could vacuum less and didn't have to clean up poop or vomit. I didn't have to reject romantic interests for being allergic (because there is NO WAY I'd give her up). I could work without being interrupted by a thing reminding me that it loves me. I would come home to an empty house, as opposed to the excited chirp of my little furball. I didn't have anything to miss back home, and didn't have to ask the petsitter for pictures to brighten my day. Shiloh fills my condo with fur and scattered litter, but it's lifeless and empty without her. She provides me with a constant source of happiness. I love her more than words can say and am so glad that I am a part of her life.