Celebrating Chaplin's One-Year-Anniversary With Us

It's been almost been a year since my black fur ball came home... and I guess I never wrote how he came to be Chaplin. So, here's the story of how and why. 

As you had maybe seen in previous posts, I had an orange fur ball. Charlie. She’s my fur baby. Well, I dreamed for months to get another cat, so she could have a friend. After my move into the house, I felt like she just needed someone else. I knew that this wasn’t the best approach but well, I wanted another cat. I wanted a boy cat (allowing Charlie to remain the queen of the roost). I would name him Chaplin. Yes – Charlie and Chaplin. (I don’t remember when I came up with this genius name, but I think it’s pure perfection.)

Back in the summer of 2012, I finally convinced Ned to get this said friend, but he put his foot down that I would not get a cat after things in life had settled down (I was in the midst of job hunting and then there was that huge trip to Italy... oy - I'm behind on blog posts). Well, around November, I started looking at cute pictures online. I wanted to adopt another cat from the Town Lake Animal Shelter, but I wanted to protect Charlie from getting sick. I thought a cat that was fostered would be best. At the same time, a coworker had just adopted a kitten, cute, purring and sweet. Must get me some tiny cuddles! I had started oogling this one long-haired grey kitten online, but I had to re-register in-person with the shelter before I could contact the foster parent. Thanksgiving weekend was coming, and I decided that Friday after it would be a perfect time to go in.

So, we walk into the animal shelter, and I try to register. Of course, they first send you to go see all the precious, adorable, sad animals stuck there. It really is heart wrenching. (Yes I was teary-eyed and pouty after this walkabout. Ned, of course, was not phased.) I walked around and saw two cages I thought had some cute cats, but I really had no intention to adopt that day. No way – no how.

Ok, let’s register and get out. The lady behind the counter starts chatting with me as she’s entering my information, about my Charlie and what personality I’m looking for. She tells me about this black, long-haired kitten she had just taken to a show. How he had been playful, sweet and even friendly with a dog. I had indeed noticed him earlier since he was long haired and black. Ok, ok – fine. Fine. I’ll see him (he was alone) and the other grey cats I saw (3 of them together in one cage). Fine.  

We walk back and another volunteer lets me into the back of the area where both cages were. Picture a row of cages along one wall, in a room that was probably 40 by 10 feet?  I walk up to the first cage of the 3 grey cats – just to see them. We take the boy out. Well, the little black fur ball down the hall was just appalled by my actions. He starts meowing (shouting?) at me from across the room. Almost as if to say, “HELLO! HEY! HI! What the hell are you doing over there?! Come here and pay attention to me!!!” Ya – Ned is a witness to that. I literally talked back, “Okay, okay. I’m coming! Goodness.” We place grey brother back into his cage. We walk over, and this black fur ball is meowing his head off. Open the cage, and he leaps into my arms. He wouldn’t let me put him back! He had just been rescued a day or two before. The clincher? He purred so loud you could hear him across the room (he still does).

Well, little did I know at the very instant that he saw me – he decided I was Momma. 24 hours later – after a lot of hming and hawing – we brought Chaplin home. (Ned knew the instant he saw the meowing and purring exchange. I wasn’t so sure, until my heart nearly broke thinking that the little guy would be heart broken that his Momma had not picked him up after surgery.)

Here’s little Chaplin as a kitten - all 2.5 lbs of him:

Oh, those first months were so hard. He was sick, sick and sick. Chaplin had a cold (that would NOT go away) and had stomach issues. Read: special diet required. Poor thing had to be cooped up in a bathroom. And even then, he still got Charlie sick – she actually got laryngitis (that’s the strangest sound I’ve ever heard come out of cat. Imagine hearing a cat try to croak but a weird sound comes out). I’ve spent more money at various vets then I care to think about. I’ve shed many tears over both of them.

But, he got better, and now he’s nearly full sized:

Yes - obviously he suffers greatly doesn't he?

We’ve had lots of new experiences: Changes in food (now, the highnesses require wet food once a day); escapes via the front door when there is even a crack; extra litter box duty; more hair; fleas; meowing; hissing; cuddling; sitting on shoulders/heads (like a parrot at times); chases around the house that sound like there’s a herd of tigers, not two 10lb cats; suckling sheets when in bed with us; the refusal of wearing a collar; party time in the middle of the night (aka kitties think it's play time); loud purring; counter top adventures; eating bread; flipping water dishes (that require me to buy a new fountain) and who knows what else.

I think my favorite part is that Chaplin taught Charlie how to purr. She never purred that loudly.

And how are Charlie and Chaplin together? They’re quarreling "friends." At first Charlie was not impressed. She would look at me as if to say – “Seriously? You brought this home? Can we take him back?” Now, they chase each other, and I think they are playing? They watch out for each other. The other night Charlie woke up me at 2 am so I could get Chaplin out of the pantry. Oh - they will sleep and cuddle together (until Chaplin starts to play). They sleep next to me nearly every night. Ned jokes that the cats get 1/3 of the bed, I get 1/2, and he gets the remaining sliver. I say, "C'est la vie!!!"