Visiting Chloe

It was 103F today, the first day of my new volunteer job: looking after Chloe while Chris and his dog Waylon are out of town. Chris, a carpenter, is building cabinets for someone up in Seattle. 

The Backstory: finding a cat was my first priority when I moved to Portland in 2008. I came here from Texas with nothing but the books, clothes, and art I could fit into my car. I knew nobody in Portland, had no relatives or connections here. I heard that Abyssinian cats are very intelligent and will bond with their people like dogs. Chloe was the runt of her litter and already a yearling when I visited the cattery, but no one had chosen her. I was enchanted by her elegant tininess. The woman who ran the place gave me a great price, and Chloe came to live with me in April, 2008. She was more like a puppy than any cat I’d ever known before, and she padded around on tiny feet, demanding that I find interesting things for her to do. She was a picky eater, and she would only drink water from a running tap. In the main photo for today, I found her perched on the edge of Chris's bathroom sink, drinking water from the tap.

I’d had cats before and never had allergies, but right away I began to have itchy eyes and runny nose, and over the two years Chloe lived with me, I developed breathing problems. By 2010 I had asthma. My doctor said I had to find another home for Chloe, and coincidentally, within days of that appointment with the asthma doctor, Chris came to install my Murphy bed. Chloe was fascinated by him, kept butting up against him, chirped at him, would hardly let him do his work. Chris was smitten. In July, 2010, she went to live with him. Chris lived in my neighborhood then, moved away, and moved back, now he’s just five blocks away, so when we stumbled across each other recently, I told him if he ever needed a cat-sitter, to give me a call. I take three allergy pills twice a day now, and I’m taking an extra dose while I’m visiting Chloe. She's staying at her house; I'll go visit morning and evening, feed her and cuddle with her.

In human years she’s between 85 and 88, and she probably weighs about four or five pounds. I think she has cataracts and is deaf, but she’s alert, communicative, and still chirpy. She sits in my lap and drools when I caress her, just like she did when she was a teenager. In an effort to avoid posting cat photos every day, I’ll post four today and get it out of my system. In the second extra you can see how her age shows in her face. But isn't she elegant and gorgeous? (Not that I'm biased.)