Thursday, August 14, 2014
Friday, August 1, 2014
2013 was a tough year for me. My dear Xena, who had been diagnosed with diabetes a year and a half before, had suddenly taken a turn for the worse and passed away at the end of May. My mom was hospitalized twice after falling at home. She stayed in a nursing home after each hospital visit, the second time we believed she would not be coming home.
I wasn’t really ready for a new cat. However, my mom encouraged me to adopt, and so did my dad. So my dad and I decided to visit the shelter where my parents adopted their cat, Lucifer, a few years earlier. There were many adorable cats and kittens there. The lady at the shelter had a particular recommendation for me, though. This cat was in a foster home. He was an older cat, 10 years old at the time, probably a cat that would get overlooked easily.
I made arrangements with the foster mom to meet the cat. He was then called “Tøfflus”, a Norwegian word that means “Slipper”, after a character on children’s TV show. When I met him, he seemed only mildly interested. He looked up and sniffed my hand when I approached; the he proceeded to ignore me. The foster mom told me that he had had a difficult year. He had been surrendered to the shelter in January together with his companion. The family who surrendered him was his second family, and they had to give up their cats because one of the children was allergic. He was first in one foster home. During this period his companion was adopted without him. His current foster home was the second one in six months.
He showed obvious signs of depression. He had no appetite, was lethargic and had no interest in grooming himself. As a consequence, his fur was full of mats.
Despite this, he managed to crawl into my heart. I knew this cat needed me just as I needed him. So I called the shelter and arranged the adoption. The following Sunday my dad and I went to pick him up from the foster home. He was very unwilling to leave at first, and we had a hard time getting him into the carrier. He moaned all the way to his new home.
When I came home with him he seemed to lighten up a bit when he saw that everything was ready for him in his new home. After a while he let me pet him, he even purred.
Trying to get the mats out was no easy task. The first time I tried he bit me really hard. He was obviously afraid I was going to hurt him. I had to get my dad to help me; together we managed to get the mats out. We spent two days, though, and combed out an entire cat.
I decided to give him a name more worthy of him: “Aslan” after the lion in the Narnia series. He is a Maine Coon mix and looks a bit like a lion.
Aslan put on a lot of weight during the first few weeks. For a while he was a bit heavier than he should be, but after a while he returned to normal weight. He saw the vet, who said he was in excellent health.
As Aslan began to thrive in his new home, he also helped me thrive. Although I was still mourning Xena, the loss was no longer so hard to bear. I was able to relax more and became calmer.A few weeks later my mom had recovered enough to be able to return home. She was also completely charmed by Aslan.
Aslan and I came into each other’s lives at a time when we were both going through tough times, and we share a very strong bond. Grooming is no longer a problem, he actually enjoys it. He greets me when I get home, he “talks” and purrs a lot. He is also very friendly and welcoming when I have visitors.
He is also very well behaved. He enjoys playing, but he does not knock down vases or shred the toilet paper.
Written by Ann-Christin Haave od Norway affectionately know as Meowmie
"When I went to LA on vacation my parents looked after him. He loves his grandparents and his “uncle” Lucifer. Still, something wasn't quite right. “Meowmie” wasn't there! He was so overjoyed when I came back home! When Meowmie is home, everything is right with the world."