She's Pinkalicious

The earliest photos of me as a baby include stuffed bunnies, teddy bears, and cats. As I've written before, dad loved dogs, mom loved cats. My upbringing absolutely nurtured a love of companion animals. Growing up with animals, real & fake, I've learned many important things from them. I have a cat in my life now that is complicated, and I just cannot figure her out. Here she is, her name is Pink Moon. Isn't she beautiful?

She was a rescue. Like most rescue animals, you don't find them, they find you. Here at Deer Run, we had gone through a profound period of loss, including my dad, one of my closest friends, and 3 of our animal companions all within just a few months. It was an excruciating time in my life. One day after all that loss, Mr. Happy Vegan came home with an animal carrier, and silently put it down on the floor in our living room. I was certain it was a bad joke. I peeked inside, but saw no one. I told him he wasn't serious, and he said look again. So I did. Cowering way in the back of that carrier was a Very. Small. Animal.

That very small animal was terrified. I wasn't sure why she was so scared, pick a reason I suppose. Was it because she was a throwaway at a local shelter? Had she suffered abuse no one would ever know about? Was she frightened because of all the noise at the shelter? Scared of the big carrier, the big person who put her in there, the big car, or the big house? Who knew, certainly not me. We took the carrier into the bed room, shut the door, and opened the crate. Eventually she came out, and ran under the bed. I did not see her again for several days. This very small animal didn't want anything to do with anything in her new home. She had an amazing talent of being able to slip through my hands. For her first vet appointment, I literally moved everything in the entire bedroom in an attempt to get her into a carrier. Mattress, box spring, bed frame, dressers, night tables, laundry baskets. Blocked off the closet, the bathroom, and the exit door. Didn't matter. She was so quick, I had to cancel the appointment and reschedule, for over 1 hour I tried to coax her any way I could, it was impossible.

This little slip of a cat was, and still is, an absolute thief. It sounds so cliche', but she stole our hearts. It took a while to name her, but eventually she told us what to call her. We went with it, agreeing with her that this is an optimistic moniker, and represents hope, even through hard times.

She was born anxious, and to this day remains full of anxiety. The slightest noise or misstep causes her to seek refuge under the bed for hours. But... when she is relaxed and content she becomes one of the most docile and loving souls I have ever known.

Pink Moon was exceptionally small when brought home, and she has stayed small. She never got really long, tall or heavy like most others here do. She's tiny for an adult. She has this "thing" she does every morning. She waits for my eyes to first open, then begins her "dance." She starts to swirl, twirl and tumble all over me. She beings to rumble like a Detroit Diesel, and then, only then, she begins to drool. Oh, geez, you think that is so nasty don't you? Actually, so do I. But, this tiny 6 pound cat has the sweetest face, I forgive anything and everything the moment she sets her eyes upon me.

She frequently looks foolish, as we have one of our other cats (I will write about her soon) who "mothers" her. This other cat wants to be a good mommy, but she overdoes things in that she chews off all Pink Moon's whiskers. Pink Moon is a tortoise shell kitty, with very long white whiskers, given the opportunity to have them grow. But, her pseudo-mommy doesn't like her having long whiskers. Once they get to a certain point, she will over-groom her and remove them. Usually it takes about 2 days for the whiskers to be fully removed, and for the interim, she really looks hilarious, half whiskered, half not. Then, she will stare at me with her anxiety filled eyes, wondering why am I laughing, and I have to explain its only because she's so beautiful.

Pink Moon enjoys constants. She abhors change, be it new food, new people, new toys (she still plays with her purple fuzzy from baby days) or new animals. She will not gaze outside the window, rather she is content to be on a cushion, a pillow, a blanket, or a throw rug. Anything soft is her home.

Of course, Pink has a song. You might think you know what it is, but is not what you think. Nope, her song is "Super Freak" by Rick James. Goes like this "She's a very pinky girl, a pinkalicious little girl..." You get the drift. I hope Pink loves her "Super Pink" song, but I cannot be sure. I'm tone deaf and will never sing in public anything more than a round of Happy Birthday. But, whether she likes it or not, she tolerates it for sure, and when she does she stares, then blinks very slowly at me.

I think it is true that animals tend to pick one person in the house and be closer to them than any other. Pink has chosen me, much to the dismay of Mr. Happy Vegan. Don't get me wrong, Pink LOVES him, loves him a lot. But, her anxieties come out much faster with him, and she is slower to respond to him. Is it possible that terrible things happened that we will never know about, and it was a male offender that has burned an indelible memory upon her? We do not know. What we do know is that we have all the time she needs, all the patience it takes, and all the love there is, to nurture this tiny thief of hearts any way she wants. She is the princess, she is in charge, and we are merely vessels to bring whatever it is she needs or wants.

Now you know a little something something about our little pink, pink, pink, pink... Pink Moon.