The whole thing began when a friend of mine found some kittens under her house. Can you imagine? How sweet that would look? A furry little pile of kittens just sitting there? Anyhow, after she told me about this discovery, I kept tinkering with the idea of taking one of them home. So I did. We named her, The Bird. If you met her you'd agree, it suits her perfectly.
Our biggest fear in all this, was that Ed, being large and somewhat impulsive, would chew her up. He has a history of being so overcome with curiosity/fear, that he eats inappropriate and sometimes breathing things. So we took this whole venture very (very!) seriously. We moved The Bird in with all the delicacy of fine china thieves. Slowly walking her through the house, past a napping Ed, and into our office which we had outfitted with cozy beds, fun toys and a pink litter box. (Pink. Can you even?)
Of course I imagined that she'd immediately leap out of her cat carrier with unfiltered joy, amazed at her fancy new digs and then love us fiercely and forever. The Bird chose another course. She sat in her open carrier looking bored. Unmoved by our efforts. Maybe even irritated by my thirst for her affection.
Shock. She's in shock, I said. The poor thing was stuck under a house and now she's been moved away from those familiar stinky surroundings and doesn't know what to think. What to feel. It's kitten shock, pure and simple.
We left her there in the office, to gather her thoughts, and shut the door quietly behind us. Part two of our million step plan was to bring Ed to the office door so he could smell her. This part worked like a charm. He sniffed that door like an 80's Ryan O'Neal hunched over a mirror. Could not get enough. Nervous that The Bird would be overwhelmed by Ed's energetic presence, we pulled him gently away and rejoined our new kitten. She was cleaning herself on the couch. Playing it cool, we thought. Touche.
Over the course of the next few weeks it became very clear - The Bird did not care for us. Least of all, Ed. Her interests included the following: food, treats, a soft nerf-like ball, and her pink litter box. The end. And this has not wavered. Not for one hot second. The Bird is steadfast in her disdain.
Ed, on the other hand, is beside himself. He is besotted. He is in love. The more The Bird shows nothing, the more Ed gives everything. It's tragic and awesome. She is Beyonce to Ed's last row with obstructed view hardcore concert going fan.
And it's working like magic. Ed is no longer lonely, he's busy as a bee, gently following his new found love around the house, sniffing her every scent, adoring her every move. And as dismissive as The Bird appears to be, on two occasions we have caught her snuggled up next to Ed, his eyes wide with wonder and delight, hers closed tight like a fist.
But it's enough. It's more than enough. It's Christmas every day for Ed and that's all we wanted. In fact, isn't that all any of us want? To find someone to love, to live out our final days with? And when we wake up and find them there, sleeping quietly beside us, to have our eyes light up with unexpected wonder and delight.
And for this I say thank you, Bird. Truly.
