Written by See Yee Ai.
I had been pinning for Maxi and Manna since the day I gave them away as I couldn't bring them to the United States with me. Mentally I told myself that I would not have any more cats. It was just too stressful and painful to go through the whole process again.
But one day, I caved in to temptation and looked up pictures of cats and kitten available for adoption in Overland Park (our suburb) and chanced upon an announcement that the Humane Society was having an off-site adoption drive at our local pet store.
I suggested to my husband that we go and look. Then we debated about why we shouldn't have cats yet. We weren't sure if we were staying in Kansas or elsewhere in the United States. (He said we were.) Could we afford it since I was still going to school and we were a one-income family? (He said we had quite a comfortable savings margin.) I couldn't live with the pain again. (Just because you've lost children doesn't mean you stop wanting to have any.) Finally, it would be a betrayal to Maxi and Manna. (he said they would have wanted us to have other cats.)
So, that Saturday, the coldest day this summer (it was raining cats and dogs), we braved the icy rain and went to the Petco store. There we saw a while bunch of adorable kittens, all less than three months old. A grey tabby with white bib and socks was the first to catch my eye. He was the handsomest and most precocious baby I'd met in my life.
I still wasn't sure whether we should adopt kittens, but my husband took matters out of my hands by filling in the necessary forms. The Humane Society of greater Kansas City didn't allow prospective pet adopters to take animals home immediately, to discourage impulse adoptions. They also asked lots of questions, to ensure people knew what they were in for.
Since it was summer and high kitten season, they were having a two-for-one offer - you could adopt two cats or kittens for the price of one (US$80 or RM304). We looked around and saw a tuxedo male with the cutest pink nose that reminded me of a kitten I had fostered last year. He had an all-white baby sister, myrtle, who was deaf. Myrtle had to go to a home with one of her siblings and I was tempted to pick Ike (the tuxedo) and her.
In the end, we settled on Ernie (the grey tabby) and his brother, Everett. When we got home, I decided to rename Everett, Ham (after Noah's son, who supposed to have moved to Africa and is the fore-father of all Africans) because he was jet-black and Ernie, Japheth (after Ham's younger brother, who went West, and was fore-father of the Caucasians). My husband thought they were typical highfalutin names. Anyway, at home, they are Hammie and Jaffie.
The follwing Monday, my husband called up the Humane Society about our application. They then phoned our apartment management to confirm that cats were allowed. An hour later, our application was approved. Both of us jumped around and hugged each other in glee after their call.
We could only take the kittens home on Wednesday because they had to be spayed and vaccinated first. So early that morning, we drove to the society, housed in an attractive, red-brick building on the outskirts of Kansas City, to claim our kittens.
Animal lovers will be pleased to know that animals are treated much, much better here and that you actually feel good for those living at the Humane Society. With greater awareness and better funding, animals in developed countries get treated better as well. Many of the staff members bring their pets to work. The cat-house, which faces the reception area, is so nicely rigged up with toys and paraphernalia that you feel a bit guilty taking the cats away.
The kittens were allowed the run of the room and three of them were chasing an assortment of toys across the floor. Some of the older cats were in individual cages labelled with their special dietary needs - for example, light hairball formula, over weight formula, etc.
Ham and Japheth had been brought up in a foster home with their mother and hence were even more family-friendly. My husband and I both believe that the US$80 we paid for them didn't quite cover the services we received: both had been spayed, de-wormed and given booster shots. We were to bring them back for two extra jabs, plus their rabies shots, at no extra charge. Both the kittens had been micro-chipped for identification. They also gave us a bag of cat food (Science Diet, no less!), a pet carrier and three toys.
We were made to sign an agreement to treat the animals well and ensure they receive proper vet care. If, for any reason, we couldn't care for them any more, we had to return them to the society. It was an agreement we read carefully and intended to fulfil.
The package they gave us contained some 20 pamphlets ranging from why cats should be vaccinated annually, to proper litter box training, to how to clip their nails. Armed with this information, no owner can claim not to know how to care for his cats.
The staff at the shelter knew both Ham and Japheth by name. I was pleased to note that they were treated as individuals and not just generic strays. Their pet passports, which are their health records, list when they were born. So now we can celebrate their real birthdays, instead of giving them "pretend" birthdays, as we did with our other cats.
Life with two boisterous kittens required some adjustment; we had to remove all our ethnic table runners, stow and tie up all loose cables and wires, and ensure there were no loose strings or sheets of paper lying around.
We also have to be more vigilant about closing doors and watching our step, especially in the dark. (Kittens have a habit of appearing out of nowhere.)
Sometimes, when I watch them sleep, I think of my other cats. I haven't forgotten Maxi or Manna, but these two sure help ease the pain.
But one day, I caved in to temptation and looked up pictures of cats and kitten available for adoption in Overland Park (our suburb) and chanced upon an announcement that the Humane Society was having an off-site adoption drive at our local pet store.
I suggested to my husband that we go and look. Then we debated about why we shouldn't have cats yet. We weren't sure if we were staying in Kansas or elsewhere in the United States. (He said we were.) Could we afford it since I was still going to school and we were a one-income family? (He said we had quite a comfortable savings margin.) I couldn't live with the pain again. (Just because you've lost children doesn't mean you stop wanting to have any.) Finally, it would be a betrayal to Maxi and Manna. (he said they would have wanted us to have other cats.)
So, that Saturday, the coldest day this summer (it was raining cats and dogs), we braved the icy rain and went to the Petco store. There we saw a while bunch of adorable kittens, all less than three months old. A grey tabby with white bib and socks was the first to catch my eye. He was the handsomest and most precocious baby I'd met in my life.
I still wasn't sure whether we should adopt kittens, but my husband took matters out of my hands by filling in the necessary forms. The Humane Society of greater Kansas City didn't allow prospective pet adopters to take animals home immediately, to discourage impulse adoptions. They also asked lots of questions, to ensure people knew what they were in for.
Since it was summer and high kitten season, they were having a two-for-one offer - you could adopt two cats or kittens for the price of one (US$80 or RM304). We looked around and saw a tuxedo male with the cutest pink nose that reminded me of a kitten I had fostered last year. He had an all-white baby sister, myrtle, who was deaf. Myrtle had to go to a home with one of her siblings and I was tempted to pick Ike (the tuxedo) and her.
In the end, we settled on Ernie (the grey tabby) and his brother, Everett. When we got home, I decided to rename Everett, Ham (after Noah's son, who supposed to have moved to Africa and is the fore-father of all Africans) because he was jet-black and Ernie, Japheth (after Ham's younger brother, who went West, and was fore-father of the Caucasians). My husband thought they were typical highfalutin names. Anyway, at home, they are Hammie and Jaffie.
The follwing Monday, my husband called up the Humane Society about our application. They then phoned our apartment management to confirm that cats were allowed. An hour later, our application was approved. Both of us jumped around and hugged each other in glee after their call.
We could only take the kittens home on Wednesday because they had to be spayed and vaccinated first. So early that morning, we drove to the society, housed in an attractive, red-brick building on the outskirts of Kansas City, to claim our kittens.
Animal lovers will be pleased to know that animals are treated much, much better here and that you actually feel good for those living at the Humane Society. With greater awareness and better funding, animals in developed countries get treated better as well. Many of the staff members bring their pets to work. The cat-house, which faces the reception area, is so nicely rigged up with toys and paraphernalia that you feel a bit guilty taking the cats away.
The kittens were allowed the run of the room and three of them were chasing an assortment of toys across the floor. Some of the older cats were in individual cages labelled with their special dietary needs - for example, light hairball formula, over weight formula, etc.
Ham and Japheth had been brought up in a foster home with their mother and hence were even more family-friendly. My husband and I both believe that the US$80 we paid for them didn't quite cover the services we received: both had been spayed, de-wormed and given booster shots. We were to bring them back for two extra jabs, plus their rabies shots, at no extra charge. Both the kittens had been micro-chipped for identification. They also gave us a bag of cat food (Science Diet, no less!), a pet carrier and three toys.
We were made to sign an agreement to treat the animals well and ensure they receive proper vet care. If, for any reason, we couldn't care for them any more, we had to return them to the society. It was an agreement we read carefully and intended to fulfil.
The package they gave us contained some 20 pamphlets ranging from why cats should be vaccinated annually, to proper litter box training, to how to clip their nails. Armed with this information, no owner can claim not to know how to care for his cats.
The staff at the shelter knew both Ham and Japheth by name. I was pleased to note that they were treated as individuals and not just generic strays. Their pet passports, which are their health records, list when they were born. So now we can celebrate their real birthdays, instead of giving them "pretend" birthdays, as we did with our other cats.
Life with two boisterous kittens required some adjustment; we had to remove all our ethnic table runners, stow and tie up all loose cables and wires, and ensure there were no loose strings or sheets of paper lying around.
We also have to be more vigilant about closing doors and watching our step, especially in the dark. (Kittens have a habit of appearing out of nowhere.)
Sometimes, when I watch them sleep, I think of my other cats. I haven't forgotten Maxi or Manna, but these two sure help ease the pain.
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