Two White Lies

When I turned 30 years old, I deemed myself mature enough to be a cat owner, and so I set out in search of a feline friend.  I don't recall what led me to the Town Lake Animal Center, perhaps it was just closer to my apartment.  When I got there, I was told that January really wasn't the "season" for kittens, that I would have more luck in March and April.  "But I want a cat NOW!" I was saying to myself, so I asked to have a look anyway.  When I got to the quarantine area, I saw a small orange ball at the back of a cage, and I don't think it took me more than a few minutes to decide.  I promptly submitted an adoption application.

Truth be told, I lied on my application.  Instead of a house, I lived in a 400 sq. foot apartment that didn't allow pets. I even asked my references to bend the truth for me!  They did and I got a call that I could adopt the cat.  When I took him out of his cage, he simply put his head against my chest and purred.  As it turned out, Jackson was a terror with sharp claws and teeth.  If he wasn't sending litter flying across our little studio apartment or jumping into the trashcan or hurling himself onto my back from the bed (his claws poised to sink into my flesh), Jackson was biting and scratching his way through each day.  So, I decided he needed a friend.

Enter Lucy.

Again I went to TLAC and again I lied (and had others lie for me) and again I adopted a cat.  Lucy sat in her top row cage and looked down on me as if to say, "Take me or not.  I don't care."  I took her, and after some protests from Jackson, she settled in.  While Jackson was tearing up the screen door, getting lodged in wheel wells and refusing to stay off the counter, Lucy just watched.  She was a good jumper and loved to play, but really she just liked to hang out with me.  Fire and ice; ying and yang; Jackson and Lucy.

Jackson will be 13 years old in November and Lucy follows suit in March 2012.  Since leaving TLAC and Austin, they've lived a cosmopolitan life in Chicago, braved the snows of Upstate New York and basked in the heat of an Atlanta summer.  Countless adventures were had along the way.  Jackson once stood paw to hoof with a white-tailed deer and didn't budge; he cheated Death even after a vet tech gave him an overdose of medication; and his veterinary folder is several inches thick.  Lucy meanwhile has eaten her way to 18 lbs. and then back down to 14 lbs; she got Jackson blamed for tearing up the toilet paper; and she fearlessly welcomed a dog into her life (Jackson still protests the arrangement).  They are old now and their bodies and lives are winding down, and I'm not quite sure what I'll do with myself when I don't have to worry about them anymore.

Forgive me, TLAC, for lying on my adoption applications; it wasn't the right thing to do.  I did, however, keep my promise to give these cats the best life possible, and I know there's not a soul out there who could have given them more or better.  I love them with all my being, and I thank you for bringing us together.

Thad Dickinson