We adopted our cat Wrangler one year ago. There she is with my husband. At the time we picked her out, we were told that she was less than a year old, a teenage mom. Her litter of kittens had found homes but no one wanted the mama cat.
Her original name was “Jewel” which cracks us up since that name has quite the opposite feel of Wrangler. Is it so easy to mess with the perception of personality as to change a name? Apparently, it is.
Our vet now tells us that Wrangler is more likely three or four years old. Perhaps she was small from being without a home. She has grown since we got her, and is in great shape. We let her go outside (although we promised we wouldn’t), so she is incredibly muscular and has a thick, luxurious coat. I have always let my cats go outside, it makes them happy cats.
But I have some thoughts about adoption today. We have had Wrangler for a year, and I feel like she is part of the family. But that wasn’t an automatic process, and in fact took most of this year. Before Wrangler, we had a cat named Krystal. There she is to the left, a sweet-tempered and beautiful kitty. She died of renal failure.
We went without a cat for a whole year, because I didn’t want to just “replace” Krystal. Even after waiting a year for the grief to pass, the adjustment to Wrangler was more complex than I expected and was apparent on both Wrangler’s end and ours.
We had to get used to cooping her in the basement so she wouldn’t wake us too early in the morning. She had to get used to being petted and played with, when she didn’t seem to care for it at first. It took a full six months before she would sit on a lap. But over the past year we have all made adjustments. Now she puts herself to bed in the basement at night, and we merely have to close the door. No drama. Now she is very affectionate, often throwing herself on her back at our feet, belly exposed for a rubbing.
Happy Cat-iversary, Wrangler!