A Cat’s Guide to Adoption

Marvin got his name from the book, A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. If you have read the book, or seen the movie, you would know it comes from the friendly but misunderstood robot, Marvin. Both Marvins have trouble in social settings, and are unsure of themselves, but in a pinch, they can make a rainy day full of sunshine. When we let our dog, Chloe, depart due to age, health, and quality of life, Marvin was still there. He opened up like he never had before.

1. Feed the adoptee. Food is paramount to survival.

Every morning Marvin announces he’s awake and ready for breakfast. He will either arouse from the bed we all share, or he might wonder into the bedroom after taking a walk around the house. Marvin will start meowing next to me on the bed, I try not to move and keep my eyes closed. I am convinced at this point in our relationship that Marvin believes I will not be the first up. He can wait until we are both ready to eat, because I’m not ready yet. Andrew’s moves a bit and grunts at the now yelling type of meow. Marvin takes this as a sign, and sits right in front of Andrew’s face, giving him a good swat. He gets up. It is moments like this that make Marvin so special to me. he is so perceptive. But it wasn’t all meows and the clinking of dry food into a metal bowl.

2. Safety. I dont think this one needs much more of an explanation.

I thought we had lost Marvin. His little limbs had fangs for claws and velociraptor teeth for jaws—there was no way I could catch him. My hands blistered at any sign of roughness. I ran to the open front door. Marvin was outside, and out of site. Chloe, our cocker spaniel, was running around, tail wagging, as if we were playing a new game of tag and Marvin was it. My eyes popped when I saw him, he skittered past me, hair pooped along his back, tail erect like a sword ready for battle. He looked at me as if he had no idea who I was. it had only been two days, but his attitude outside the house was even more feral than I imagined. He was the definition of a scaredy cat.

“Andrew! Help!” I yelled into the open front door. He appeared in the doorway as I blurted, “I can’t catch him!” Tears started to form under my eyelids, obscuring my already bad vision behind my glasses. I stood, watching the three of them run around the undenied yard. If I moved, I might make Marvin run out of the yard or even into traffic. Our neighborhood wasn’t ideal, but it was a place to live. Our neighbors were kind, the street was unforgiving, you couldn’t walk your dog at night, and our landlord was a crook. He never fixed anything.

Andrew was finally able to catch Marvin, by the grace of some higher being. Marvin cornered himself in the only pocket of the yard anyone could corner anyone. Andrew grabbed him in his hands, but Marvin still fought him, The fangs and claws came out and he bit deep and scratched constantly as if he were escaping certain death. Red lines and puncture wounds revealed themselves on Andrew’s hand, and a few drops of blood slithered down his palm and knuckles. I didn’t even bother to ask if it hurt, I knew his answer would be that of the black Knight from The Holy Grail, “tis’ but a scratch.”

I don’t know what past traumas Marvin had. I can only assume he lost his mother very early, either by abandonment, no motherly instinct, or perhaps she died, got into a scuffle with another cat or worse, a coyote.

3. Give them a chance.

I found Marvin by accident on Facebook. I was scrolling through as people do, when I came across one of my friend’s posts. It was of a very small kitten, with golden yellow eyes, and fur the same color as my dog. It only seemed fitting to ask about him, so I texted her about meeting him.

We pulled up at a vet clinic, our friend had pulled him from a facility that was ready to give up on him. He was found on the streets as a kitten, and returned twice by potential adopters. This was his last chance.

Marvin was cuddled up against a small dog, about the same size as him. I thought that was a good sign. He was friendly with dogs. “Here he is,” she said, picking him up out of the cage. She placed him in my arms. He curled up like a cinnamon roll, bubbling his throat and kneading his toenails on my sweater. I looked at Andrew, gently passed the kitten and asked, “You love him, right?” A smile emerged from Andrew and his inner child voice came out.

We took him home the same day. Andrew held him the whole car ride home, purring in his arms. He carried him inside his new forever home, and introduced him to Chloe, the most docile dog I’ve ever known. She said a quick hello, then wandered about her normal business and returning with her favorite toy, a tennis ball. We slowly released our hold on Marvin so he could explore. He stayed on the couch for five seconds before looking at us with eyes that grew in size as he slinked away low to the ground. He disappeared into a mischievous corner, or a closet much like the one from Narnia.

4. Be patient.

Andrew and I looked at each other, well this must be why he was returned so many times. For days we put out milk and sat like melting statues on the couch. Letting him approach us at his pace, trying to reassure him without pressure and without scaring him into a new more hidden hiding place than the last.

5. Enjoy

Marvin found places to hide over and over again. Repeatedly I would try new things to comfort him. A friend helped us build a giant cat tree for him. I got him a puzzle food board, toys, beds, you name it, we had it. Every day he was as little more comfortable. He would step outside of his comfort zone and make a new one.

Eventually we were able to let him outside, on purpose. I know what you’re thinking, but he changed. He started eating all my indoors plants, (don’t worry, they are pet friendly) shoving his face in them and holding his mouth wide open like he smelled something absolutely disgusting. So we started taking him out on our patio. He would walk through the grass patch, sniff the flowers and sometimes swat at them. The cheap plastic water fountain that sits in the birdbath is a favorite for him. He will sit beside it for hours, tilting his head at the sound the pump makes even when it has no water to pump. he finds joy in the little things. And I find joy in that.

5. Love.

Today it’s been 6 years living with Marvin. He is the best cat I have ever known. During this time Chloe passed away, mid pandemic, mid world emergency, and I was grateful to have Marvin in my life to help me the way I helped him. He comforted me in my sadness and lonelines. He curled up next to me, on the couch, on a chair, on the bed, on the floor, wherever I might have settled. Who knows, maybe eventually he can go for walks with us, but until then, we will stick to the patio.