Cat Hoarders

Oh! And then I forgot - or blocked - the latest update in my Cat Quest.  I wasn't going to be daunted by the Parma Animal Shelter. I would just go somewhere else. The sad story is that there are far fewer homes than there are homeless cats. 


So Sunday I got up, grabbed a cuppa coffee and settled in to do a little online looking at kitty cats.  A few days earlier I had seen a little fella online at the Cleveland APL named Sloppy Joe and it was such a dumb name and he had a cute look that My Mister and I agreed he might fit in here.  I actually bemoaned the name Sloppy Joe and he looked at me with a quirked brow and pointed the finger back at me with his comment, "Really?  You named a cat Twinkle Toes." 


I stand by that name, Reader. Twinkle Toes is a damn fine cat name. 


After checking the hours online for the APL, I headed down there around 2:45 p.m. They were open from noon to four. Plenty of time. I had cat carrier in tow. 


Then I hit some road work. And experienced a bit of delay, delaying my arrival until 3:20.  


The receptionist told me that I only had five minutes to pick out a cat as they stop processing adoptions at 3:30. Their hours are noon. To FOUR. Four. Not three thirty. 


I do understand people want to go home. Especially on The Lord's Day and all that. However, you're denying a happy home to a small critter. Can't ya just type really fast and check the people out?? 


I thought I could do it since I already knew who I wanted. Little Sloppy Joe was going to be mine. So I pre-filled out the paperwork and then went back to the cat room to find him. 


I searched high and low, into the mournful eyes of many many many kitties in need of my loving arms. I scoped out four to bring home with me. Two have to go together, they are too attached to each other to be parted (the sign said so) and they were so absolutely cute with their entwined sleeping that it was going to be no problem at all to bring both of those boys home. 


And then a big black girl named Lucy. She wanted to come home. She meowed up to the edge of the cage and was pawing out at me with a, "Hey! Pick me!" positioning. 


And then there was a poor little guy who looked scared shitless. He was 8 and his parents turned him in  because they were moving. He looked like he had just lived through his first night of prison and my heart broke a little and I wanted to jail break him. 


And then? A guy with a big poster that he'd been there since October! Poor guy. That's a long time to not get picked. 


And then? The one who was perfect, some little tabby fella who was playful and rompy and looked like he'd be good fun and a good brother for Toby.  He wasn't Sloppy Joe. Ol' Slops must have gotten adopted because he was no where to be found. 


I got myself under control and had resolved to just go and get the one little playful guy - about 8 months old or so, not a teensy weensy kitten - and not be swayed by Lucy or the Cuddlers. And when I went to check out? 


Too late. 


Twenty to four. 


No can do.


I just sort of stood there and looked at the lady, blinking in disbelief. 


She told me I could reserve him and come back the next day. 


They close at 6:30, there's no way I can be back from Tiny Town to this side of town in time to complete the adoption process, because I'm sure they close down the process at six if they're open til 6:30. Or maybe they shut down adoptions at noon. Who the fuck even knows. 


The saddest part? There were two families in there after me looking at kittens with their kids, and they were picking out someone to bring home. So they, too, went home empty handed, I've no doubt.


So again, foiled in my attempt to add to the family. 


At that point I bowed to the Universe, acknowledged the message loud and clear and have abandoned my quest to fill my Twinkle hole. 


Someone will find it's way to me. Or not. But I'm pretty soured on the whole APL services.