Tales of the Catsistant
Name: Meadow Loveday
Adopted: December 24th, 2016
While going incognito as a short hair domestic, Meadow Loveday is anything but normal.
Her quirky qualities include:
Proof reading, snuggling, typing, changing the touch screen of the computer with a swipe of her tail, holding the space bar for ransom, and last, but not least, her endless supply of chatter.
Meadow, who takes her catsistant duties very seriously, also has time to play, take naps, and terrorize her catsiblings.
Christmas Eve, 2016, my husband and I found ourselves at the pet store to pick up treats for our four legged fur-babies, as is tradition each Christmas.
I, knowing exactly where NOT to go once inside the store, made my way over to the cat treat section. My husband, however, headed right to where the newest batch of adoptee's are kept along the main walkway of the store.
Now, usually it's me... I admit, that croons over whatever furry little face is tucked inside the cage.
Not this time though.
It was ALL him.
I made it through the cat section and then the dog section, all the while he stood there, fingers pushed through the bars, scratching the only part he could reach, which was her leg. See, she'd tucked herself inside the box on its side, and for added measure, had pulled the cat bed up in front of the opening. She'd hit her point of overwhelment and just wanted to hide. It broke his heart. He caved. We caved.
So Meadow came home with us.
Scared out of her mind, she hid under my bed for two days. She wasn't touching her food, or her water. The only thing left to do was get her into a smaller confined area. A safe place for her while she adjusted. So, we got her out from under the bed, which was no easy task, and put her in my walk in closet with food, water, and a litter box.
A few days later, as my grandfather passed, my daughter closed herself up in the closet with Meadow and something pretty awesome happened. Meadow, sensing sadness, came out of hiding to comfort my daughter. My daughter, needing that comfort, gave something back to Meadow that none of us could have... the returned feeling of being needed.
It took Meadow another month or so to venture out into the rest of the house, and that's when we realized that she was having issues with her back foot. Sometimes she limped so much that she had a hard time walking. Unsure of what was going on, I took her to the vet. The diagnosis? Meadow had a broken toe, and it had healed wrong. The toe had to be removed.
Meadow is now our nineteen-toed chatterbox who loves people. Quite the turnaround from the cat who lived in my closet. Go figure.
Shelter animals make amazing friends. Adopt and save a life.