December 31, 2008
Levi the Christmas cat

Yes, the rumours are true. I have become the crazy cat lady living down by the tracks.

I added another member to my animal menagerie this Christmas. And I promise I'm not going to become a cat blogger or anything, but I have to share my latest "child" with you, because he's just so darn cute!

Meet Levi, the Christmas cat:

Levi was rescued by a local animal organization when someone moved away and just left him behind in the empty apartment. Who does this shit?

As a volunteer of the animal rescue organization, I had seen his picture a few months ago and thought he looked like a real sweetheart. I couldn't get him out of my mind.

That, and while it's difficult to get pictures of most cats for our adoption site, Levi posed for the camera. He's as much of a camera whore as I am! I knew that was a good sign.

The two above pictures were taken of Levi at his foster home. The organization that rescued him doesn't have a shelter for animals but rather uses a network of volunteers who foster cats and dogs until they can be adopted into forever homes.

Just a few days before Christmas, I decided to take the plunge and meet Levi, so I called the foster home for an appointment.

When I got there, I wished I had brought someone with me, or at least told someone where I was going, because it was quite possible I may get knifed and/or cooked into a stew. The building is a scary one with a permanent banner hanging on the outside that reads, "Furnished Suites for Rent" and is one that I, and the majority of people I know, had driven by many times and wondered, "Who on earth lives in that place?"

People who leave cats behind when they vacate their apartments, apparently.

The guy fostering the cat seemed nice enough, in that he didn't knife me or offer me stew made from anyone else who had stopped by before me. I appreciated that. But getting to his apartment was interesting. Upon walking in the building, there was a steep staircase that went up two flights without turning at all.

At the top of the stairs, the foster dude turned right. Although I was not too far behind him, once I got to the top myself, he was nowhere to be found. The hallway was a strange maze and I was tempted to play a rousing game of "Marco Polo" to find out where the guy went.

I called out and followed his voice through the labyrinth to his apartment. I stepped inside and wondered how on earth this guy had four cats. His place was very small, with a whole bunch of stuff piled into the main room. The furniture was too large for the place, and, combined with all the stuff, gave kind of a hoarding feel to it. None of the doorways to the other rooms had actual doors, but rather sheets serving as makeshift curtains.

I decided then and there that even if I didn't like Levi, he was coming home with me. I needed to rescue him from his foster home!

Foster dude grabbed Levi and put him on my lap as we made small talk. Levi sat nicely and shed like crazy, betraying his nervousness. I whispered to him, "Don't worry little dude, you're going to a better place."

Levi hangs out with my black and white cat,
who, surprisingly, only hissed at him for two days.

Levi fit into my house almost seamlessly. The older cats accepted him within a few days and they get along and play now. In fact, I've been referring to Levi as my other cats' personal trainer, because he eats their food and then chases them around so they get their cardio.

Yes, kitty. When you don't live in a creepy hoarder apartment,
you can look out a window and see the out-of-doors!

My other animals were named Italian words that describe their personalities. I considered doing the same for Levi, maybe something Italian that had to do with Christmas.

But then I remembered that in Handel's Messiah, one of my favourite parts is in the song "And He Shall Purify" where they sing, "And He shall purify the sons, the sons of Levi." When the sopranos sing the word "Levi", the note is just a half-step higher than you think it will be and it sounds so flipping cool. And so he kept his name.

He's my Messiah kitty and I can't help but sing to him every time I see him. He doesn't even seem annoyed by it.

The Messiah kitty smites a lowly mouse.

And now, back to your regularly scheduled smutty non-cat blogging blog.

Labels: pets

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