Feral or otherwise free-roaming cats live in colonies.
Free-roaming cats cohabit with other cats.
Free-roaming cats like other cats.
Pre Tabby’s Place, Adelaide was a free-roaming cat.
Ergo, Adelaide must like other cats.
Well, so much for that theorem.
I realized this month that our affectionate, exuberant, human-smitten Adelaide really has no use for her own species. Perhaps that’s a bit of an overstatement. After all, living with other cats has its advantages. Sometimes visitors come bearing enough treats for ten cats, which means Adelaide gets ten times as many treats.
But other than that, our joyful girl could really take or leave her roommates. That’s not a bad thing (as if anything Adelaide could be bad). She isn’t aggressive with them (unless they deserve it walk past her); she certainly isn’t afraid of them (AT ALL).
She just…thinks of them like furniture.
You and I and any random humanoid, though — we’re different. We are the joy of Adelaide’s soul, the dream of her heart, the very thing she lives for.
And, my heavens, does this old girl live.
Adelaide continues to be on fire in the best possible metaphorical sense (and not just because her calico body is blazing-hot to the touch thanks to hours in the sunshine). Our tiny girl’s energy is matched only by the kittens down the hall. They should each be so lucky to grow up to be Adelaide-y.
And, I’m grateful to report, all things Adelaide-y are hunky dory. Our sweetheart’s health is mercifully stable, and Addy has actually gained a few ounces this month. She’s still built like a gymnast — small in every sense except for loooong legs — and every bit as graceful in her leaps and double twist dismounts from the ramps in Suite FIV.
Dear sponsors, thank you for filling Addy’s summer with grace. As we look to September, the look of love is in her eyes thanks to you. Adelaide and I both love you dearly!