Coffee & Writing

On November 10, 2017, the day before my birthday, my parents happened to be passing through town from Virginia on their way to a retreat at St. Meinrad Archabbey in Indiana.

I had been looking at cats to adopt. I was thinking of an adult cat because they are hard to adopt out, but the one I had interest in had urinary problems, so that, unfortunately, did not work out.

My friend and I had to go to the kitten room. I couldn’t imagine so many kittens corralled in all my life, but there they all were. It was very difficult to leave, my friend wanted to bring all of them home, an understandable temptation. I found one that I liked. She was a tuxedo cat named Newton.

“Newton is the one I want!” I proudly told them. So, they put Newton aside.

I adopted a fostered tuxedo cat about 25 years earlier, sight unseen, originally named Magic, but I was a psychology major at the time and his name changed to Freud.

Sigmund Freud ,photo by Max Halberstadt

My parents had brought down some birthday gifts for me and I showed my mother this cat from the Owensboro Humane Society. The adoption paperwork was brought out and Newton was adorably walking all over it when she threw up on it. They offered a free trip to the vet to get her checked out. I’m sure it was just a small stomach bug, at least I hope so.

One of the people had told me, probably by accident, that Newton had a sister named Einstein, and they looked very similar. Again, sight unseen, I said, “I hate to be a jerk, but…” So, I adopted Einstein. I was a huge fan of the British television show Sherlock starring Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman, and her name became Sherlock.

As an aside, when Martin Freeman’s character, Dr. John Watson, got married, he had a child on the show who was a girl and Sherlock wanted them to name the girl after him. There was a running joke that Sherlock is not a girl’s name. Well, I disagree, it has the words “she” and “her” right at the beginning.

When my mother discovered the cost of Sherlock, née Einstein, she said, “This is your Christmas gift.” I was swift to say, “That’s fine,” knowing full well they would still send me something for Christmas.

As you can see Sherlock likes to sleep, look out the window especially when it’s snowing, watching Mass and playing with palm leaves and hanging out with the Virgin Mary (she’s a Cat-aholic), she likes to lose her toys under the fridge, watch Doctor Who (she’s a good Whovian), and wonder if she will ever be brave enough to wander the halls again like she did a few years ago.

She wanted to stand on the Monopoly board to indicate she knew she was winning and she did indeed win the game. She smiles occasionally, and yes, that is a smile, not a growl; she had to have extensive dental work done, and now her lip hangs down a little. She always gets good check ups from the vet and is a healthy cat. I am very blessed to have Sherlock in my life.

She usually only climbs on the bed when invited, she never knocks things over like the cartoons say cats do, she will not drink from her water bowl, she insists on drinking from a cup. Her favorite toys are milk jug rings, ponytail holders, fake mice, her track to name a few. Her favorite treat is Activia’s peach yogurt, her favorite color is blue, she can’t drink skim milk and hates whole milk, doesn’t think much of 2%, and prefers 1%. She does not like wet cat food. I tried giving her a cat treat once and she turned her nose up at it. She will sit on my face to wake me up or tickle me with her whiskers. If you look closely at the white splotch by her nose, you will see a perfect circle of black, it’s like her freckle.

I have given up on giving her Christmas gifts because she doesn’t like anything I pick out and like a child she prefers the box. She cannot stand me working on the computer because it means she cannot sit on my lap and get her ears rubbed, she prefers the right side.

She has a crush on David Tennent, the 10th and 14th Doctor from Doctor Who. I had a shelf full of Doctor Who figurines and she was in a position to knock over all of them. David Tennant) met his wife, Georgia Moffet (now Tennant), on the set of Doctor Who and so I had their figurines next to each other. The only figure she knocked over was Georgia Tennent.

When I took her to a vet she did not like her carrier and was able to burst her head through the tiny hole and destroy her carrier. We were at a farm equipment store and I had to buy her a new carrier, the only option I had was to get her a dog carrier. She did not like it at all. Once I was able to get a cat carrier she cried less. Now her old carrier serves as a lair with shirts on the bottom, she will only use those shirts, two of which happen to be Doctor Who shirts. I think she hung around the Christmas gifts so much to prevent me from opening them early, something I would easily do. She uses the kneeler more than I do, but I have a bad knee, so that’s okay, it just needs to be vacuumed from time to time. Making the bed can be difficult. Sometimes the computer fascinates her (but not often), she is more interested in wrestling with her sock monkey.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the more expensive upgrade for the website to show you a video. Sherlock loved to fly at my old apartment. I don’t have a window sill or the ability to put up curtains here, but I did at my old apartment. She would wrap herself around the curtain and jump off the sill and let go of the curtain so it looked like she was flying. She is a clever cat.

Most of all, we do not like it when we are separated from each other.

Happy Adoption Day my sugar plum fairy!

Miriam Kavanagh