Adopting a Cat in the time of Covid


The year 2020 was a lousy year. Not only did the Covid pandemic keep us locked down for most of it, my fiancé and I also lost both of our elderly cats due to illness. I could have borne the year in lockdown with my two felines two by my side, but when our second cat Jango died at the end of October, the silence in the house grew too much to bear. As the winter dragged on, and the worst of my grief passed, I began thinking of adopting another cat – in particular, a pair of bonded cats, preferably a year or two old, as we would like a pair of cats that actually get along and have outgrown the energetic kitten stage. Unfortunately, we found out that trying to adopt a pet was just one more frustrating experience during the pandemic.

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In Memory of Phaedra (2001-2020)

Phaedra (2013)

Today I mourn the loss of my old girl Phaedra.

She came into our lives on August 4, 2001 when Doran and I visited the Humane Society in the hope of adopting a pet. I had never had a gray cat before and was enchanted by the thought of getting one; I had my eye on one in a cage in the cat room at the OHS but Doran saw Phaedra (then called “Muffin” by the Humane Society) rubbing herself against the bars of the cage on a higher shelf, wanting out, but almost purring and looking content. She was a beautiful tortoiseshell colour, all blacks and browns with cream mixed in. The Humane Society worker let us hold her, and right from the start she seemed to be a happy, affectionate cat. She won our hearts immediately, and we took her home in a cardboard pet box in our old ’89 Ford Taurus that day. I remember how she chaffed at being in there so I opened the top; she jumped out and hid under the seat. I had to pull her out in order to bring her to our apartment on Iris Street. When we put her down on the floor she immediately ran to hide beneath a computer desk. Doran had to run to Walmart to get food and a litter box and pet supplies while I tried to coax her out.
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Splinted! Learning to cope with Mallet Finger

I don’t usually write about personal issues, but since I do like to document the unusual things that happen to me (and since Facebook isn’t really good for that sort of thing in the long term), I thought I would make an exception and write a post documenting the stupidest, most ridiculous injury I’ve had in my thirty-odd years. Those of you who came only for the nature stories and photos may want to skip this post; however, I hope it will help others who find themselves suffering from the same stupid injury.

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