Directly behind my back fence is an old apartment complex with an empty swimming pool. One evening I was out back when I heard what I thought was a bird. It kept “chirping” from the same spot for a while and I thought to myself “that’s not a bird.” I looked over the fence and there was a tiny kitten stuck in the pool! The steps were too high for him to get out. In my head I’m literally thinking “oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…” and trying to figure out the best way to get it. I hopped 2 fences and got the little angel. The second I picked him up he relaxed like he knew he was going to be okay.
Then I had to get back to my house, but I was now on the smooth side of a 6 ft wooden fence. I’m 5′ 5″. Me trying to get over the smooth side of a wooden fence with a kitten without help wasn’t happening. The empty pool area is being used as storage for the complex. There was a chair amongst the old washing machines and evaporative cooler parts, so I used the chair to hop back into my neighbors yard. She was home and was able to help me over the fence and into my yard.
One of my neighbors across the street periodically worked at various animal shelters so she knows how to take care of kittens. As I’m jogging through the house to the front door I’m literally thinking “I hope she’s home, I hope she’s home, I hope she’s home…” Thankfully, she was. When I told her what happened she told me she had just had to put her oldest cat down THAT DAY and had been praying for help to get her through it, and there I am with a tiny kitten who needed her. Her cat had lip cancer and could only drink goats milk at the end, so she already had milk and bottles. Clearly not a coincidence. A little later she told me she named him “Robbie” after me. That was so sweet, it made me cry.
A few weeks later she let me know that for several reasons she couldn’t keep him and had someone who might take Robbie. I couldn’t stand the thought of a stranger taking him when he was clearly meant for me. His foster mama weaned him off the milk and got him used to a litter box and such and brought him to me about a month after I found him.
I’ve always been a dog person. I have never had a cat of my own. One reason is I used to be highly allergic to cats. Just walking into a house with a cat would start my nose a runnin’ and my eyes a waterin.’ Now I just have to be careful to always wash my hands after I pet a cat and I’m usually okay. It’s also what I have to do after petting a dog or a horse as I’m allergic to those too. I took care of my BFF’s cats for a year or so and I’ve taken care of friends’ cats when they are out of town, so it’s not like I didn’t know what to do. Another reason I’ve never had a cat is I don’t like litter boxes, especially the smell. The Goddess of Dogs did a switcheroo and gave me a cat anyway. Oh boy.
Besides all the cat stuff I had to buy, and kitten-proofing of the house, I had to come up with a new name for him. I wanted to name him “Junior” as his foster mama named him after me, but my older brother had a cat named Junior that went missing and that seemed like bad Karma. I looked through countless web pages with suggestions for cat names. He’s all black so I looked for words in other languages that mean black or night or something similar. I couldn’t come up with anything I really liked. Having known him for a while now I would have named him Spazz, or Goofy or something; he’s quite the character. Anyhoo, a friend suggested “Wilbur.”
Wilbur the Wildcat is the name of the mascot at the University of Arizona in Tucson. As you may recall, I have a dog named “Sparky.” Sparky the Sun Devil just happens to be the name of the mascot of our hated rival Arizona State University. I’ve always known the mascot names, but it never registered with me that my dog has the ASU mascot name. I already had a Sparky, I had to have a Wilbur. So that’s his name.
Wilbur was about a month old when I found him, so about 2 months when I got him for good. Still tiny and adorable, but he was a feisty little guy. I knew he was a fighter ’cause he wasn’t going to stop calling for help until he couldn’t fight anymore. It breaks my heart to think what would have happened to him if I hadn’t found him. It’s what keeps me going when he misbehaves, which he does a lot. For a while I thought he was going to think his name was “no kitty!” It’s getting better, but he’s been a challenge. I have a small but likely permanent scar on my lip from a bite, and I have numerous scratches on my hands and arms. He hasn’t yet learned I can’t play like a cat, I don’t have claws, and I’m not a chew toy.
The woman who first took care of Wilbur also had dogs, and her biggest dog became fast friends with the kitten.
Wilbur wants to be friends with Sparky. Sparky is 13 and wanted nothing to do with a kitten. That’s also gotten better over time. I wouldn’t call them friends exactly, but they are cordial, mostly. One day they were actually laying on the dog bed together! I was so happy until I later realized – based on future interactions – Sparky was tolerating Wilbur, not buddies with him. Hey, a girl can dream.
I’ve had Wilbur for 8 months now. He’s still adorable. He walks and runs around the house making all kinds of cute sounds. His meows have many moods, and so does he.
I knew from the 1st day he’s going to be an indoor cat. One of my biggest fears is he gets out the front door and gets hit by a car. He could get bullied by the feral cats in my neighborhood, one of which looks EXACTLY like Wilbur. He could be preyed upon by the hawks in the area, or loose dogs. Or he just disappears and I’m left to wonder for the rest of my life what happened to him. Besides all of that, outdoor cats kill a lot of birds, and I think are the reason I have very few lizards around my house. Other areas of my neighborhood have some pretty large lizards, but not mine. There are a number of stray cats that hang out in my yards, especially the front yard. I like the lizards ’cause they help take care of bugs. Anyhow, much to his dismay Wilbur is an indoor cat.
Although he still wants to bite and scratch, as I mentioned before, it’s getting better. As most pets seem to want to do, both Sparky and Wilbur enjoy the bathroom visit. I live alone, so most of the time the lavatory door is open when I’m doing my business. Sparky visits for scratches and kisses on his head. Wilbur has taken to jumping on the toilet tank and sitting behind me for a few moments. Most of the time he’ll let me do tiny kisses on his nose and he doesn’t try to bite or scratch. Then he makes his way to the sink which he likes as long as the water isn’t running. He still can’t sleep with me as his sleep schedule is much different from mine and he wants to play when I want to sleep.
During times of frustration I will sometimes raise a fist in the air and ask no one in particular “why did you give me a cat!?” But I know why. After my Sparky is gone I don’t want any more dogs, at least while I live alone. I didn’t want any more pets, but that didn’t work. It’s too hard when they go. And dogs require someone to let them out and otherwise take care of them. Cats are much easier to take care of. Perhaps this is the universe telling me I’m going to be alone for a long time and will need a companion. I sure hope that’s not the case.