Long ago, in the belly of winter, Adam Stanley submitted something for the approval of the cat blog society. Now, nearing the solstice, I finally stop being disorganized and post it.
Please, meet Bailey. (In Adam’s own words.)
California Pussy (You can edit this title I GUESS if your mother reads the blog or something)
By Adam Stanley
I estimate it has been over 80 degrees in my apartment for a few days now. With the windows down and the radiator hissing uncontrollably, the houseplants cling to what green leaves they have left in anticipation for spring. Every morning, a Super from across the street rips open the throttle of his pint-sized snow blower, moving today’s pile of snow to yesterday’s spot. This dance will continue until we have a good melt.
Bailey bats my face with his paw. I’m awake already. His purring rivals the snow blower, and I kick him off the bed. Hunger purrs.
He wears his mittens and boots year round, and seems to be particularly fond of the colder months. I can’t blame him. This apartment turns into a sultry damp mess during the summer, quite different from the dry, cool air of his California hometown.
Bailey was adopted in 2010 from the Los Angeles Animal Shelter. He’s lovingly named after the Mighty Boosh character Old Greg’s obsession with Bailey’s Irish Crème, and we celebrate his birthday on St. Patty’s day. The shelter estimated he was about a year old.
He was kept in the top row of cages when we first met eyes. Quarantined because he just arrived, the “look-but-no-touch rule” would remain in effect for 5 days. Los Angeles has an incredible shelter system. It quarantines new animals to check for diseases, then aggressively adopts them back out to the community. It does this via an animal rotation scheme with all of its campuses in the Greater LA area. I guess if you ever need to set up a shelter system in a big city, check out LA? Shut up.
For the next 5 days, I checked in to make sure he was still there. He remained in the top cage, poised, gazing down on all the absolutely mental, squealing cat people who visit the shelter daily to check in on the kitties!
On the 5th day, they removed his balls and handed him over to me. I carried him sans carrier to my car, completely unaware of my unorthodox cat-owning behavior.
“Don’t you have something to put him in?” the clerk ridiculed.
“No, I’ll just carry him out!”
He didn’t cause any trouble. I put him in my car, and he quickly scampered below the dash, crying until we got home.
Originally submitted before Valentines’ Day, this gif is appropriate in any season.
Thank you Adam and Bailey, the both of you bi-coastal beauties.