Posted in cats, depression, dragon, grief, Personal

6/21: Dragon’s Cat

Portia is pushing 12 years now. I’m using her “gotcha day” as her birthday, since I adopted her at roughly 5 years of age (they said 4-5, but I have no clue so I’m going with 5) on October 30th, 2010. Which means she’ll be 12 this year. I chose her partly for wanting a dilute tortie, but also her personality was more social than JoJo ever would be (she was very much a one-human cat and was scared of other humans).

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I mention further down that she likely has Maine Coon in her. I say this because of her mane and then the short fur, and then the varied fur on the rest of her.

She’s always been a bit goofy… not the brightest feline on the planet, but gorgeous, floofy, silly, and friendly. Not the “in your face” friendly, but enough of an attention-hog that she will take it from damn near anyone.

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Hey YOU! You there!

Then she gets her “zoomies” or Elevenses, or whatever you might call them. Usually after a meal. Well, today, she’s full up and knocking things over. Almost broke her food dish in a failed attempt to make a u-turn from the bathroom to the hot tub cover where her food and water are (and the turboscratcher, which is getting a lot of use today). Failed only because the piece of carpet she dug her claws into to gain traction and jump wasn’t exactly attached to the flood (it’s a scrap and the floor is tile). Same piece of carpet nearly got flipped earlier this morning during another round.

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Her Turboscratcher. She LOVES this thing. 

She also has her lovey moments. Especially ever since JoJo died in February, she’s been my sleeping buddy. She was before, but not as clingy. Now a night (or the next morning) doesn’t go by without her taking a nap on top of me. Usually my chest, but if I’m on my side, she’s discovered she can perch from my shoulder to my hip (yes, she’s a sizable cat).

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On my chest. To be fair, this was in the apartment and I was sitting, but still. She has to be touching me or near me (with me in her sight line). 

She has a face that can melt hearts, eyes that change colors, a squeak that informs me of her mischief, an innocence that belies her years, and a heart of gold that has eased the blow of losing her older (adopted) sister. She likely has some Maine Coon in her, from the way her fur is. She’s roughly 14 pounds… which makes things interesting when she wants to sprawl all over me and my bladder is a bit full. She hates being groomed and will give me many -MANY- warning bites.

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Her mat trimming haircut from April 2016. In order to get to the mats, I had to trim rather haphazardly. It looks like a 3 year old found the scissors, but ultimately, I think she liked having less fur during the summer as it grew back. This took me over a month to get all the mats. Yes, go ahead and laugh. I’m still giggling over it over a year later.

But I wouldn’t have it any other way. She will need a companion in the form of another cat once I get work again. We’ll see who chooses me when that time comes. A black cat? A Siamese? A Tuxie? Who will be that new friend for Portia? We’ll have to wait to get into our own place again before that happens.

~Dragon