The Artist Formally Known as Harmon

What are you looking at?

     I adopted a cat today, and I swear I could hear my ten year-old self cheering. On Sunday I went to the PAAWS cat adoption shelter in Fargo and visited their cats. Walking into each room I was greeted by at least 7 new cats. My mind became overwhelmed at all these poor kitties who needed a home and I had no clue how I was supposed to pick just one.One of the last rooms I visited held a beautiful pair of ice blue eyes. They stared out the window until I came over for a closer look. These eyes looked at me and soon were right next to my face, as a full grown Siamese cat landed upon my shoulder. When I left the shelter all I could think about were those ice blue eyes, and the way they seemed to know I used to carry kittens around on my shoulders.

It happens to the best of us

     My career as the cat whisperer began at an early age, and it followed me into adulthood. Recently I made friends with my "big brother"'s demon cat. She doesn't take well to people, and he didn't think I would be any different. As the evening progressed his cat became more enchanted with me, and soon we were playing a rousing game of hide and seek as she sat behind the Venetian blinds. I have no idea why cats are drawn to me. Maybe it's because when I was younger I was the Jane Goodall of the barn cat world. I would sit and watch the kittens play, letting them get used to me until I could pick them up and tame them. The adult cats would flock to me as I scratched them right behind their ears, and the ever popular scratch under the chin. At one point I seem to recall communicating with a cat using the various meows I had picked up from them. Don't judge me, I lived too far out of town to have people friends.

She's got the look

     What really led me to adopt a cat at this point and time, was something that happened to me last week. I was outside reading my book and sitting in the white plastic rocking chair Kate's dad gave me(so I could scare away the neighbor kids with a gun on my lap), and the neighbor's cat came over. He looked at me so I reached down to scratch his ears, and he stayed to keep me company while I read. While he was sitting behind my chair another cat came silently up to me and stared at me until I looked down She kept looking at me like she wanted something, so I reached down to pet her but she shied away. I was about to go back to reading, but the cat kept looking at me like she was one of those crazy coffee customers who expects you to know just exactly what they want, even though you've never seen them before. My irritation at the ever staring cat left as an idea struck me. I patted my lap and the pretty yellow cat jumped into my lap and stayed there for twenty minutes.

You could adopt the great Catsby!

     I am a firm believer in signs, and I know when I'm beaten. It seemed my life had become a parade of cats and it was time for me to stand up and start waving the flag like mad. After discussing it with my roommates I made an appointment to go visit the PAAWS shelter. Kate and Chris decided they wanted to come with me to help me select the cat I've always wanted. Chris fell madly in love with a cat named Rita and promptly began asking her questions like: "Who hurt you Rita?I'll show him!". Kate, on the other hand, was mesmerized by a giant black cat named Doorstop. He was just as wide as he was tall, and very playful. Doorstop rolled around on his back showcasing his immense belly for us to play with. Then there was the Great Catsby. He was a full grown long haired black adult male cat with a white mustache. All of us had to talk to him in high class British accents because we just knew that was how the ole' boy would've chatted if he was so endowed with vocal ability. Several times I had to stop Chris from trying to smuggle out all the cats under his shirt. As the volunteers told me stories about each cat, my heart broke because each cat had their own sad story and their own quirky personality. When I left the shelter I had a few cats in mind, but I just couldn't shake those icy blue eyes. Later that evening I made the phone call to tell them Harmon had found a home with me.

King of his Domain

     After making a mad dash to PetSmart to acquire all the necessary cat items, I was ready to pick up my cat. Driving up to the shelter I started to get nervous. What if the cat isn't happy with me?How will I know he wants to stay here and not run away to join the cat circus? Or even worse, cat reality television. I went up to the door, but it was locked. I stood outside waiting for someone to come, when a family got out of their car to come to the shelter. I listened to a little boy tell me stories about his tennis shoes with Legos on them for 15 minutes before the door was opened. He was very excited because they were looking for a cat to take back to Texas with them. Solemnly, I walked into the shelter with my cat carrier clutched in front of me. I was terrified they weren't going to let me take Harmon home. The woman at the shelter looked at me and I explained why I had come into these hallowed feline halls. A huge smile broke across her face and she couldn't say enough about how sweet Harmon was. My adopting was postponed a few moments as the manager of PAAWS hurried there to say goodbye. I was told if I couldn't wait for her to say goodbye then they just weren't going to send him home with me. As she said her goodbyes she made sure I knew how lucky I was to be taking this beautiful cat home with me. She placed him in the carrier and I took him out to my car.

Nap cat is pleased

     Driving home I kept placing my finger through the door of his cat carrier, so he would know I was going to take good care of him. When I got him home I opened the door and he began exploring every part of the house he could. I laughed as he climbed into the television cabinet and then back out again. Finally he stationed himself in front of the bay window, almost exactly like I had found him in the PAAWS shelter. It will take him some time but I can already tell he is going to fit right in. He likes to take naps, look out the window, and sit as much as possible. The name Harmon didn't quite seem right for him, so after much deliberation I settled on Quintus. A most scholarly name for a most dignified, albeit cross-eyed cat.

For Your Entertainment

NEW POST COMING SOON!FOR NOW JUST ENJOY THIS ADORABLE PICTURE RELATED TO THE COMING POST!
Seriously, I tried to write a full on post but I almost fell asleep on my laptop. This is Maru. If you want to continue the fun go look at the youtube videos of Maru the cat and his boxes. It's great.

Rizzle Mizzles (Roommates)

I love you this much.

    You may have noticed that I have not written a new blog for at least fortnight(two weeks), and that is because I have been really busy. It's not that I don't love you my faithful readers(HI MOM AND DAD!), I love you all just as much as pie...but that's not the point. Two weeks ago I moved into my new house, and life has been a tad hectic since then. Not only were my sleep habits drastically changed, my eating habits were affected also. It seems that food costs money, but more than that you actually have to go to the store and buy food to eat it. Needless to say this took me many days to figure out, and included me living on mammoth chocolate chip muffins for a few days.

I don't look like this when  I clean.

     Then of course there was unpacking everything. My car was completely full when I pulled into the driveway, and I had to carry all of it down a flight of narrow stairs into my room. Luckily my roommates were home and helped me carry my things, but I still had to find places for everything. I am a very organized individual and this was a rough time for me. Psychologically I don't believe I will ever recover from the disarray my possessions were in, but now they are all in their proper place and I got my Gone with the Wind collage up on the wall! Once all these things were accomplished I still had to find ways to occupy myself, so I did the only time consuming activity I know, cleaning. I set to work on the kitchen and created a recycling area in the garage for our overwhelming amount of recyclables. Once the counters were clean and the floor mopped, I had to find more things to clean. Nothing was safe from my cleanly clutches, and soon I found myself standing outside our living room window perched on a folding chair with a bottle of windex in my hand and prickly bush lodged in my shoe. It became clear that I had a problem.

Thou shalt not steal thy neighbors pew

     You may be asking yourself, where were the roommates in all of this? The answer...cowering in the rooms. When I clean I tend to be...territorial. The best comparison I can make is when you go to church and you have that one place you always sit, and you're fine when you're sitting there but your whole world collapses when someone takes your spot. Sure you get over the initial shock and close your gaping mouth, but you are thinking angry thoughts about the person who invaded your space. Not to dissuade anyone from church, but that's the philosophy I used to hold and that's the best way to tell you how I clean. What you need to take away from this, is no one is allowed to be in my space when I clean.

FOUND IT!

     This week my endless quest for cleanliness was interrupted, by a job. On Monday I started my summer job, but it is a real grown up job. I work 8-hours, pack my own lunch, have an ID, AND punch into a time- clock. I work in the costume studio of a summer theater program called Trollwood as a stitcher. This means I sew things together. While it may sound simple, it is not. There are pleats, gathers, pin stitches, top skirts, bottom skirts, and I can't be certain but there is probably an entrance to Narnia midst all the seams we have to sew. Even though it is a real grown up job, it's a cool grown up job and I feel like a champion because I make stuff. Since most of my day is spent battling cotton and a sewing machine I christened Scarlett, when I come home I don't feel like cleaning. My roommates save me from myself by distracting me with their cool technology, small fury pets, and endless quests for the meaning of life. We have come really close.  For instance, Kate and I named the lawn mower last week and her name is Betty White.

My food...not yours

     So you see, there has been a lot going on and I haven't been avoiding writing on here...it just kind of happened that way. I have learned many things in this past fortnight: washing windows is dangerous, it's perfectly respectable to bring PB and J sandwiches to a grown up job, guinea pigs make weird noises, but the most important lesson I have learned is always write your name on your food.