Chuck's New Brother--Adopted or Abducted?

               Adopting a cat is an adventure. Tabby's Place is a privately owned no kill shelter which houses over 100 cats. The cats live in suites, not cages. If things don’t work out, you can bring the cat back. That part is great. 

 

            But, you have to fill out an adoption form—mega pages long—and convince this wonderful shelter you will make decent enough cat parents. Tabby's Place sees these cats as precious as children. You sign a contract to treat them in a loving and humane way. 

 

            If you’re integrating a cat with another cat or cats, there is a protocol to follow. Don’t for a moment think you can bring the cat home and plop him in the middle of the living room and let him fend for himself amidst a menagerie of the dogs and cats you might already have living there. Oh, no. 

            And, then, there was Chucky. Did he even want another brother? Yes and no. He liked the idea of having a younger brother, but he was also afraid and nervous. He was number one cat now in the house. Would he somehow become number two cat when a younger, cuter cat arrived?

 

            Dan and I spotted Theo first online and then we had a meet and greet in Suite E, where Theo lived since March with about 15 other cats. He was rescued from an animal testing laboratory. 

            I was smitten from the first. Big eyes. Mostly brown tabby. Extremely shy. Which usually means hard to find someone to adopt him. Everyone wants a friendly cat!

 

          

         “Don’t worry. We’re naming him after Theodore Roosevelt. Calling him Theo for short. And pronouncing Theo the Italian way—Teo (the e is short). "If we believe in him, name him after a famous explorer and brave man, this shy boy will rise to the occasion."

 

            Bree, who is working Adoption that day, hands me meds—just in case he’s so scared he doesn’t eat. A giant alarm rings in my head--we might have a challenge here. 

 

            Bringing him home in the carrier is no trouble. He’s as quiet as a mouse. We decide to put him temporarily in our study--and it’s waiting for him with liter, water fountain, two cat beds, two feeding bowls, and toys.

 

            Twice, Chucky comes to the study door that we’ve carefully closed—giving Theo a chance to acclimate to one room. Chucky sniffs and sniffs. I know the question that Chucky wants answered.

 

            “Hey, mom, is he in there? How long is he going to stay?”

 

            “Theo’s in there. You new little brother.”

 

            “Can I see him?”

 

            That’s tricky. I know that more time should pass. It’s way too soon to let the two of them meet face to face. 

 

I’ve been advised that before they meet, we should do what is called a sniff exchange. Take something that has Chucky’s smell on it and give it to Theo and vice versa. Also, we should install a baby gate at the door so they can see each other and sniff each other with the gate between them. THEN if all goes well . . .

 

But Chucky is one of these mellow cats. And he’s very insistent.

Theo has his own version of the story: 

"I want to meet my older brother. But, basically, I was minding my own business, see, and you two came and abducted me, threw me into a carrier, put a blanket over it so I couldn't see a thing, brought me to a house, locked me into a room. And all you two want to do is pet me." Yeah, he kind of speaks like a gangster even though he looks as cute as pie.

"It's going to be okay, Theo."

"This other cat . . . do I know him? My older brother?"

"He wants to meet you, Theo."

 

I do the worst possible thing. When I open the door to the study, Chucky sneaks in. Theo is at the end of the room, squeezed in the tiniest space on a lower book shelf. Minutes go by as Chucky, like a cat version of Inspector Clouseau, sniffs the entire room. I figure he’ll head straight for Theo. But, no, he’s maddeningly thorough as he moves from object to object, space to space, until finally he manages to make it across the room. He comes face to face with his new little brother.

 

He stares for a second and moves even closer. I hold my breath.

 

         Theo does nothing. (Is that a good sign or a bad sign?)

 

          Chucky lets out a huge hiss which reverberates through the room and practically shakes the house down.

          Theo counters with a growl that sounds like it's coming from the throat of a lion, who must be hiding somewhere in our study because little Theo couldn't possibly have made that growl!

 

          Faster than a speeding bullet, I whisk Chuck away. All my beliefs that the rascal cat is the lover of peace and good will fly out the window. 

          But what did I expect? I know it's not Chucky's fault. He sees Theo as an intruder. "This is my house," he's probably thinking. "No cat--even if he is my younger brother--is going to come in here and take over, eat my snacks  . . ."

          Bree later explains that Theo has come to Chucky's house, not only with his own smell, but the smell of all 15 kitties who lived with him in Suite E. When Chucky was sniff, sniff, sniffing the study, he was registering all the smells and probably figuring there was a menagerie of cats lying in wait for him. Not just one scaredy cat.

          Now we understand. Patience. Chucky needs more time. 

           Days go by. Chucky stays in the hallway, on his side of the door, even though he does camp outside the door in protest. Theo examines every square inch of the study. He refuses to eat in the beginning, and I think he's going on a hunger strike, but he's just nervous. When we go into the study, we often find him camped out on the other side of the door, equally curious as to what's on the other side.

    

        So what's next? After many days, maybe even a week or two, we will try the sniff exchange and then install the baby gate and if all goes well, we might be able to make a proper introduction.  No hissing. No growling. 

            There is such a thing as brotherly love, right?

        

Who Is the Rascal Cat Chuck, Really?

                Chuck, the rascal cat, loves to travel. But, as you can well guess, he’s not on the road 365 days a year. So, here’s a peek into Chucky’s life when he’s not risking his life and doing all those crazy things we love him for.

 

How Chuck Came to Be:

 

            First things first: I like to say that I adopted Chuck, but the truth is—he adopted me. He was rescued from a field near a paint ball factory. From the first day he was rough and ready—a bit feral—but I still remember the first time I saw him. He was bouncing up and down, doing everything he could to get my attention. His twin sister, Ella, stood quietly by his side. Chuck and Ella were the first orange and white cats I’d ever brought home, and I wasn’t at all prepared for their bigger than life personalities. Here, I’d like to give a big shout out to Tabby’s Place—a cat rescue shelter—that housed Chucky and his twin and to Karina, who rescued him and tried to knock some civilization into him.

 

His Older Brother, Jack

 

            I had help when I brought the rascal home. Jack, my tuxedo cat, the alpha male of the house, made sure that Chucky minded his manners. If he did something that Jack didn’t like, he would nip the tip of Chucky’s ear, and then look up at me, as if to say—I had to do it, Mom. I immediately gave Jack carte blanche to do anything within reason. Chucky was wild in his younger years. He’d climb Christmas trees and cat body slam any feline out of the way if it meant he could get at their food. He also had to go outside everyday—rain or shine. Like the mailman. He didn’t care if his paws got wet or muddy. Let’s just say he got nipped a lot by Jack.

 

His Twin Sister, Ella

 

            Ella also kept Chucky in line. One day Chucky went outside and disappeared for about an hour. We learned later that he’d discovered a catmint garden a few houses down and couldn’t resist raiding the garden and getting high. When he finally returned home, tipsy but happy as can be, before I could say a word, Ella marched over, gave him a good sniff, let loose with a few choice words, and smacked him in the face. Chucky ducked his head, but he didn’t say a word. He knew he deserved whatever Ella dished out. Truth was he hated disappointing her and kept a watchful eye on her always. But the two of them together—what mischief they could get up to.

 

His Older Sister, Molly

 

            Molly was a very petite cat, part Ragdoll, who Chucky insisted on playing with, even when she wasn’t interested. He’d stalk her from room to room, and then when no one was looking, he’d leap on top of her. We’d hear a louder than loud meow coming from the upstairs landing. Chucky’s weight on top of her practically squished the life out of her. Needless to say, Molly forever greeted Chucky with a hiss, which he couldn’t quite understand. All he wanted to do was play.

 

 

You Can’t Go Home Again

 

            I’d like to say that the four cats lived happily ever after, but as time went on . . . Molly went over the rainbow bridge first, then Ella, and then just recently Jack.

 

            It’s hard to know what to say to the one that stays behind. We, of course, gave Chuck extra hugs and kisses and lots of treats. We tried to keep the routine. I even became a cat for a day.

            Finally, we're ready to talk about the future. 

 

            “Chuck, Mom and Dad want to bring home a brother for you.”

 

            Chucky makes a soft meow. (It's only recently that he realizes that Jack isn’t coming back home. That he didn’t just go to the hospital. This time. That Jack actually walked across that rainbow bridge.)

 

            “What do you think, Chuck?”

 

            Chuck looks up thoughtfully from his snack.

 

            “We’re going on Monday to hang out with him for a while. Do you want to come?”

             As I ask the question, I'm wondering if it's a good idea to bring Chuck with us. After all, there's a certain protocol to bringing a new cat into a household. We have our eye on a little boy, three years old, who's been rescued from a laboratory that did testing on animals. He's bound to be shy and will need some time to adjust to his new surroundings. And Chuck will still need to feel that he's loved and not being replaced by the new kid on the block. 

             Before he has a chance to say anything, I interject, "We'll tell you all about him when we get home."

                                       To be continued . . .

 

            

Chuck Almost Meets Cat Daddy Jackson Galaxy

    This story does not have a happy ending.
    The Chuckster does not watch a lot of TV but he has two favorite shows, and both involve cats.
    One is called Must Love Cats.  And the other -- My Cat From Hell.
    Both star cats, of course, and both look at the world of cats from totally different perspectives.
    If you want drama, My Cat From Hell is your obvious choice.
    Cats who seriously misbehave play the starring role.  They are the terror of the household and their owners are desperate for help.  That’s where Jackson Galaxy comes in.  Not your typical cat whisperer.  Tattooed, he arrives with his guitar case filled with cat toys and treats and before the half hour episode is finished, the cat or the guardians of the cat -- as Jackson calls them -- are transformed and peace reigns once again.
    Chuckie remains glued to the set during the entire show.  And when he learned that Jackson Galaxy was on a ten day tour of the United States, promoting his new book Cat Daddy and that he would be appearing within driving distance from our house in Clinton, New Jersey, at the Clinton Book Shop, well, Chuckie was beside himself to meet his hero.
    Now Jackson Galaxy is a star.  Even to the small town of Clinton, New Jersey, he attracted over a hundred people on a late Tuesday afternoon.  Somehow he lured way too many people into a vintage-style book shop, forced them to cram themselves into a tiny space, which was way too hot, even with the fans whirling away, to hear him speak.
    It was magical.
    No one brought their cat.
    Even though the entire show My Cat From Hell revolves around cats, CATS WERE NOT INVITED.
    Chuck did not think that was fair.
    And, as usual, he put on his chuck face and that face can be persuasive.  He went so far as to hide out in my smart bag, in a vain attempt to smuggle his way into the book shop.
    My husband Bob felt sorry for him.  “Give the kid a break.  Let’s take him with us.”
    “There’s no way I can get that cat into the book shop.  The place is going to be mobbed.”
    “You can try.”
    Now, usually, I’m the optimistic, against all odds, kind of person.  I tried my best to reason with the belly boy.  “Chuck, it’s going to be hot as blazes in there.  But if you insist on going, I don’t want to hear a meow out of you.  I mean it.  Not a sound.  If you’re lucky, you’ll catch a glimpse of him.  But that’s it.  He will not be able to pet you.”
    What was I thinking?
    When we arrived, we were way in the back.  The microphone was not state of the art.  It was HOT and STUFFY.  But there was magic in the air.  Plus, I volunteer for a local cat shelter Tabby’s Place, and the book shop was taking up donations for Tabby’s Place, so that was a big plus.
    Jackson Galaxy was cool and funny and just like the way he appears on TV.  He spoke for a few minutes before he sat down and began signing books.  Despite the fact that Chuck was squished into my smart bag, and sweating, the belly boy listened to his every word and then waited patiently as we inched closer and closer to the front.
    Finally, we were the next ones to get our book signed and meet the one and only Jackson Galaxy.  My smart bag was opened, and I had a kind of scarf stretched across the top to disguise the fact that Chuck was hiding inside.  The plan would have worked if Chuck had kept to his side of the bargain.
    He didn’t.
    I guess that’s why he’s got this reputation for being a rascal cat.
    It dawned on Bob and me at about the same time that Chuck had no intention of remaining in the smart bag while I got my autograph and met the great Jackson Galaxy.  Chuck began to squirm big time.  He was literally planning to claw his way out.  Maybe hop onto the table and plop himself, belly and all, right in front of the cat whisperer.  Surprise the hell out of him.
    Harvey, the owner, pointed to me.  “Okay,” he said.  “You’re next.”
    Bob was supposed to stand there with my iphone and take the photo.
    Now we had to think fast.
    Bob handed me the iphone, grabbed the smart bag off my shoulder, and ran toward the front door of the book shop.  Now, luckily, it was so hot inside that the owners had opened the double doors in front, so escape outside, through the front, was easy peasy.
    Although, I’m sure everyone wondered why the hell my husband was suddenly rushing to stand near the front door.
    I, pretending not to notice that my husband was acting crazy, waltzed up calm as could be, holding my Cat Daddy book in one arm and my iphone in the other, and asked Jackson--in a cool twist of irony--to autograph the book to “Kate, Bob and CHUCK.”  
    Then I shook Jackson Galaxy’s hand and told him how much I enjoyed his show.  Of course, I told him ABOUT CHUCK.  His biggest fan.
    Harvey offered to take our photo.  I smiled.  I would deal with Chuck later.  For now--My Cat From Hell--would just have to get over it.

NEWSFLASH:  THERE WILL BE NO NEW WEEKLY BLOG FOR THE MEMORIAL DAY. HAVE A HAPPY HOLIDAY!

To read more about Chuck and his adventures, log onto my website: www.katelutter.com
 
 Wild Point Island, my paranormal romance, is available on Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble.com.  Recently it was rated 5 Stars by The E Book Reviewers, who said, "At the very core . . . is a multi-level mystery, with plot twists and turns that you never expected. And there is a deep touching love story that grasped my heart and never let go.  This is one book you must go buy now; once you start reading, you won’t be able to put it back down."  
         
 
   
     

Chuck Falls In Love

I have never tried to deny the truth--Chuck has always had an eye for the ladies.

As we’ve traveled around the world, he’s noticed the beautiful girls and CATS wherever we’ve gone.

He’s quite a flirt when he wants to be.

A cat about town.

So I shouldn’t have been that surprised when I realized that Chuckie had fallen in love with a cute little number who lives at a privately owned cat shelter that I volunteer at on Fridays.

Now just to be purrfectly clear.

Chuck is not the volunteer cat type.

He is much too busy traversing the country and the world and when he’s home, he likes to stay put and eat and sleep. We don’t call him the “belly boy” for nothing. But . . . part of my volunteering includes writing about some of the cats who live at Tabby’s Place, a wonderful organization for cats located in New Jersey.

One of those cats just happens to be a beautiful girl named Chickadee. I’d taken a few photos of her and brought them home with me.

And . . . Chuck had noticed.

Yeah, I had caught him actually staring at her pic on my computer screen.

“What’s up, Chuck?” I asked him one evening.

And, of course, he pretended to be staring off into space, because the rascal cat is often evasive and sometimes uncooperative, especially when it comes to his personal life.

I ignored his attempts to ignore me and plowed along. “This is Chickadee.”

I saw his ears perk up at the name. He couldn’t help but focus in to get a better look.

“Is that your tail wagging?” I asked.

The tail immediately stopped wagging.

But I knew the score and could see that Chuck was falling fast for Chickadee.

With Valentine’s Day around the corner, and me being the incurable romantic I am, I had an instant idea.

“Chuck, why not send her a valentine. Let her know how you feel? I have just the one here.” I showed him a cute valentine I had just bought at Hallmark. It had the picture of an orange and white cat that looked remarkably like him on the cover, with an arrow shot through his little cat heart.

It didn’t take that much persuading for the Chuckster to put his pawprint inside. For good measure, I included a photo of him inside the valentine so she could catch of glimpse of just how cute he was!

Well, the days went by. Valentine’s Day came and went. Chickadee got the valentine from Chuck, and Chuck checked the mailbox everyday as if he hoped she would respond. But she didn’t.

Finally, I felt as if I should say something to him.

“Chuck, about Chickadee. I don’t think she’s interested in you.”

He cocked his head to the side and looked a bit confused.

“Chickadee. I’m talking about Chickadee.”

He shrugged.

It seems he was already over her and had set his sights on someone new.

You see I write for two cats at Tabby’s Place and little did I realize but Chuck was now checking out the other beautiful cat. Her name is Colleen, and her eyes were just as green as Chickadee’s.

I guess I should have been happy that the Chuckster’s heart wasn’t broken, but I couldn’t keep myself from saying, “Next time you can buy your own valentine to send her.”