Aragon

Hello, new friend.

Almost two years ago, we adopted a kitten.  Tiger was a ten week old baby when we got him, who’d lived all of his short life under a beach cottage porch with the feral colony he’d been born a part of.

He adjusted to the life of an indoor kitty well.  Mostly he’s content with his pampered housecat life, where he spends his days napping on the couch and his nights snoozing at the foot of my daughter’s bed.  Occasionally he makes a break for the outdoors, once getting all the way to the back bushes – about 30 feet from the door – before huddling into a pitiful ball of confusion and waiting to be rescued.  He endures the occasional cuddle, and plays with the dog or anyone who will roll a golf ball for him.

But he’s still only a step out of the streets, and that left its mark.  A cuddly lapcat he is not.

A few months ago, my sis started talking cats to me.  Let me be more clear.  She started linking cats to me.  Her heart will always have a tender spot where her memories of Sultan are, but she has a very big heart.  Big enough for Layla.  Which is it’s own special story, one you should read.

Of course the linking of one cat let to the linking of more cats.  And soon I realized I was checking the cats looking for homes with way more interest than someone that didn’t plan on getting more cats ever should.

Then just before Christmas, I mentioned this new interest of mine to my husband.  As expected, he wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic.  But once the seed was planted in the dark of his mind, it sprouted life of its own.

And soon after Christmas, he went from “No” to “Why didn’t you bring home a cat yet?”

Bringing a new cat into a house that already has other pets, and 2 children, has its own challenges.  Nothing like what my sister has had with her Bengal rescue, but there were things to think about.  We really wanted a cat, not a kitten.  Kittens generally find homes fairly quickly; adult cats are as likely to end up at the shelter as they are to find a new home.  And we wanted a lapcat.  A snuggly cat that would appreciate my daughter’s attempts to cuddle, not just tolerate them.

Thanks to the warmhearted, caring people at Adopt a Rescue Kitty ( AARK ) we found all that, and more.

Meet Aragon.  Or Eragon.  Or Earagon.  Or Argone.  All different ways his name was spelled on the various bits of paperwork that came with him. Poor guy, no wonder he’s so confused looking.  Ten months old, and no one has figured out how to spell his name yet.  (The first one is a community in Spain, and was a kingdom in the Iberian Peninsula.  The second is a dragon in a pretty well-known book.  I don’t even know where the other spellings came from.)

He’s a sweetie. A cuddle kitty.  A heart stealer.  And quite a camera hog.  Every time I pull the Kodak (or the Pentax or the camera phone) out, he walks right up and sticks his face in it.

But how can you get upset, when he purrs and rubs his chin against you right after?