Clover

When we moved into this house, one of the previous tenants left behind a female cat named Clover. She had recently had a litter of kittens (as opposed to sea horses), and the last of the litter was given to a good home a few weeks after we arrived. Clover was very skittish around everyone and refused to be held. Almost immediately, however, she became very attached to our cat, a young male named Gizmo.



Clover and Gizmo became practically inseparable. He had gotten "fixed" within a week of us moving in, so it wasn't hormonal or otherwise "dirty." They were soon following each other around everywhere, play-fighting, cleaning each other, and sleeping together. Tara (my live-in girlfriend, in case I may have accidentally acquired a reader who doesn't know me personally) decided they were now engaged. Once my eyes had finally rolled back to their normal position (which took a while), she had even come up with a song in their honor. "Crimson and Clover" (found here: Crimson and Clover) had now become "Gizmo and Clover." I know, I know. But she's pretty and I let it slide after plenty of single eyebrow raising and slightly muffled snickering.

Throughout all this, Clover was still very stand-offish with any human. She had previously been kept in the finished (but barely insulated) attic and had no human contact except from her "owner" and the owner's boyfriend. I never had the pleasure (or, based on what I've heard, misfortune) of meeting this woman, who we'll call "Dea" because that's her name. By all accounts, Dea was somewhat of a hermit and not a particularly pleasant individual to be around. This, as far as Clover knew, was how all humans behaved, and she wanted no part of it, thank you very much.

After months of trying to gain Clover's trust while not forcing ourselves on her, she was less likely to leave in a cloud of dust anytime one of us came within hearing distance, but she was far from a lap cat. We decided that she would probably stay like this forever, and learned to accept that it wasn't us she didn't care for, but people in general. Clover and Gizmo were as close as ever, and that was good enough for us.

Cut to about three weeks ago. Seemingly out of nowhere, she became a different cat. Well, no, that's not quite right. She had always been sweet and somehow "dainty," with just a touch of "special" and a splash of "durr." But she was a sweet girl, and we loved her. Until a few weeks ago, like I said. Suddenly there was no doubt that we were her people. Instead of backing away from our hands when we tried  to pet her head, now she was lifting her head up to speed along this whole rubbing of the ears thing. She would climb into bed with us and stay there for a bit longer than it took her to inhale her "crunchies." She would even occasionally (yay) let us know it was time to wake up with a little nose-to-nose action.

We're still not exactly sure what was going on inside that pretty little head of hers when she decided to promote us to the level just above "those things with the thumbs," but we're glad it happened. The initial shock of  "what the hell is she doing?" out of the sides of our mouths has mostly worn off, replaced by "yay, we're her people now!" (And the more-than-occasional "awwwwwww!" from Tara.) There's just something that's pretty damned cool about eventually winning over a cat no one thought would ever be a people cat.

(And Tara? Baby? No, we're still not buying a cat-sized tuxedo and wedding dress set. They're not engaged. They're best friends. I love you, but no. You're pretty.)

Posted in: cats,Clover,Gizmo,Tara