They say “it’s always the quiet ones.”
That’s not entirely true. Sometimes it is, in fact, the loud ones.
Carley Rose falls into the former category. Until she doesn’t.
The first time Carley Rose came to Tabby’s Place, back in the hoary elden days of December 2017, she convinced us she was a “burrower.” If you’re not familiar with the term, this is a cat equipped with a special set of skills in mining, spelunking, and otherwise digging deep below the surface of the earth’s crust, which is to say her own blankets.
In those early weeks, we rarely saw Carley Rose. Or, rather, we did see her, but only cocooned in a shell of fleece, like a lumpy invisibility cloak, minus the invisibility. From Quarantine to Hospital to my office, Carley contained herself under blankies and beds, all quiet, fearful-like.
As you may recall, Carley Rose made a rather sudden emergence. One day, she was blanket-bound; the next, she was squawking and talking and rolling around on my desk, greedy for affection and attention and All The Love. Poor Bucca didn’t know what to make of this new rival…
…but the brassy beauties never came to blows, because Carley Rose was adopted.
It was wonderful.
Until it wasn’t.
Against all expectations, despite every effort by her extraordinary AwesomeAdopter, Carley Rose could not be contained. Specifically, her wrath.
Carley clobbered her Methuselah-aged housemate. Carley clobbered her loving adopter. Carley clobbered any inkling that this was the right home.
Carley clobbered her own “quiet” reputation.
And so Carley came back to Tabby’s Place.
As we’re all learning, once Carley Rose’s confidence arose, it wasn’t sinking back into the blanketed mire. We’re all learning to navigate the newly loud, aggressively proud Carley Rose.
The new, true Carley is testing the waters of the Community Room as I type this post. True to form, she began life in this new realm by burrowing. In her introduction crate, she dove deep and warm beneath the fleeces and funny-shaped cat beds.
Then the crate opened.
And Carley arose.
If you’re a human, Carley Rose is on you like corn on the cob. She’ll coo and chirp and crack you up with her wide-eyed, wide-mouthed demands for All The Love. She’ll invariably succeed in acquiring All The Love.
And then she’ll punch Philippa in the head.
Carley’s not a “bad cat,” as if there were such a thing, but she is teaching us a thing or two about too-quick assumptions. Quiet or clamoring, she’s a cat to be reckoned with.
And frankly, we love her exactly the way she is.
Just hide your Methuselah-aged kitties. There’s no telling where Carley’s star will rise next.