idris

So after all that with the dogs dogs dogs DOGS...we aren't getting a dog. Several reasons. One: this place is too damned small for the dogs we want. It's Chihuahua sized. Or Pom. And while I am just fine with little tiny dogs, I hesitate to bring one home to live with a cat who will forever outweigh it. Two, when we move out of here...which we will...there will be bigger dogs. A Norwegian Elkhound, a Siberian Husky. Three: the Shibas and Jindos do not, as a rule, do well with cats unless they were raised with them. None of the rescues--none--are cat-safe, and we can't have a puppy yet. Not here. Not with our schedules. We knew this. I knew this. Nous knew that I knew; he was just waiting for my reason to reassert itself, knowing that 'no' is never a good idea.

So. Dog on hold. Nous under orders to either get a TT someplace or start planning our exit strategy from this very small apartment or both.

And in the meantime, there is Idris.

I searched the local shelter's kitten listing. We got Louhi from them. Nous said--a little black boy kitty, maybe. And lo, one appeared. And THEN he said, but we don't choose a cat by color. It's gotta be personality.

Which is why we spent two hours playing with the little black boy and the little flame-point Siamese boy, who mostly played with each other. Their personalities, I kid you not, were Thor and Loki. The Siamese was a little older, a little bigger, eyes so blue and pale that you could see the pink when his pupils caught the light, as if he were albino. Genial. Sweet. Not the brightest problem-solver; he couldn't figure out how to get down from the very tall cat tree, level to level. Nor could he quite climb as high. Little black kitten, no problem. Straight to the top. He was a little hissier (the kittens were just made roommmates today), more inclined to assert his space. I liked the Siamese better. I felt guilty because I know black kittens have a harder time getting adopted, and the degree of 'better' was super minimal and heavily influenced by how much I like the Siamese looks. So we played with them, and watched them, and waited for their kitteny madness to simmer down so we could get an idea of them. Two separate employees kept coming in to check on us. I knew one of them was pulling for us to take the black one (Tater, they called him. His sister, Tot, had gone home the same day she came in, being grey and white). She added that the Siamese would probably be gone tomorrow; his two sibs had gone within a day. Tater might be there awhile.

So Tater came home with us, and became Idris about twenty minutes after his arrival (another compromise; I wanted "Garrus". Technically our Idris is named for the character in CJ Cherryh's Fortress series, although we're going with the Elba-style spelling. Our vet has enough fun saying Louhi, rather than Louie. We don't need an Idrys to complicate things.)

Louhi's furious. That, we expected. She hates new things. It'll probably take her a couple weeks to get used to him. He is a little scared of her. She's a little scared of him. He can fit under the couch, and she can't, so that's where he is at the moment, napping and purring by turns. She's playing sentry by the kitchen, fully cognizant of the new food dish and the kitten food in it (we'll transition him to raw gradually).

So. Idris is home.

woof

When I was little, I wanted a dog. A lot. More than anything. I wanted a dog so much and talked about one so incessantly that, when I was about five or so, my mother forbade me to use the word. Or spell it.

I had a stuffed dog, Lady (no relation to the Disney Lady; mine was a German Shepherd, not a spaniel), who had a real collar and leash (which I bought for her) who accompanied me everywhere it was appropriate to bring a dog (thus, the need for her leash). I took to pointing at her, saying, "What Lady Is," or "the same thing as Lady" when I wanted to talk about dogs during the interdiction. My mother is not as sarcastic as I am, and so did not pretend I was talking about stuffed animals.

I haven't had a dog for about 14 years now. I miss having one. We talked about getting one when the old cats died, for reasons of lease and for the old cats themselves. Pooka, once he went blind, couldn't've handled a dog (before that, he could and did. My last dog respected the hell out of him). Pix, after a year or so of trauma with the rescue chihuahuas in her household, did not have a high opinion of canines. So we knew we'd have to wait for them to go. They have gone. So.

Nous wants to wait until we know whether or not he's got any interviews for next year... which would, if he did, presumably necessitate waiting until we learned the outcome of those. It makes sense not to move with more animals than we have to. We did cross-country with two cats. It'd be easier, right, to do it with one? Right.

But still, you know, if a dog needed us... why, it's okay to have our names on the list with the rescue organizations. Shiba Inu rescue, in particular, which is fortunate to have very few dogs who need help and even fewer of those that are okay with cats. I've had a Shiba. I know what we're getting into. And it's a good sized dog for a small apartment. 101 reasons for a Shiba, but not a Shiba puppy. No puppies, of any kind. On that we're agreed.

But of course, if there are no available Shibas, then there's no harm in looking at similar breeds. Like...Jindos. They're only a little bigger. Or mixes of those breeds. I can resist (more or less) the dogs in rescue organizations, because they have homes and care. It's the sad little half-Shiba in the animal shelter some 1.5 hours north of here, in the Valley, that has my attention. There are 100 reasons why she could be a terrible choice, but I won't know about any of those if I don't call and ask...and if she is none of those deal-breaker things, then I have to make my appeals to a patient, logical, immune-to-appeals-to-pathos husband who is probably having a lot of sympathy for my mother's ban on the word dog at present. He is not good at saying no to me.

He could stop me at any time, of course, and agree to a kitten instead. Our local shelter, from whence came Louhi, has a dozen of them. Then we hit our pet-limit, and the lease constrains us from Cin's Dog Issues.

So it's his fault, right?