King of the house

So we got ourselves a cat.


A cat.

I, who have never really been a cat person primarily because I had dogs my whole life, am now the owner of a cat.

I always talked about having some sort of pet after I moved to the new house, because I had grown up with dogs and I missed having that calming presence that only animals can give. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get a dog, because there wouldn’t be anyone at home enough to care for it, so I decided I would get a cat — a Scottish Fold, or a British Shorthair.

Or, because I was ambitious, both. But because I had to be realistic, I settled for just one — for now, at least. And I got this very handsome male Blue Brit — a British Shorthair — at Ikano Power Center’s Pet Safari on Thursday night. I named him Offa, after the 8th-century King of Mercia, because, as Becca puts it, I ‘can’t just be a normal person and name him Blackie or Whiskers’.

So far Offa has been fairly easy to deal with. I wanted this breed particularly because they’re supposed to be more independent and able to do without too much attention and human contact, which works well for me because I’m out working all day. I also find it an added bonus that they’re not a very vocal breed, because I’ve always dreaded having a cat that just yowls and yowls for no apparent reason.

Offa is still trying to adjust to his new surroundings, so initially I had to carry him into the living room so that he wasn’t cowering in a corner of the maid’s room, where I’ve housed him, all the day long. However, he’s now much less timid and running and leaping all over the house by himself. The poor thing got into a fight some time ago and injured his tail, so now it looks like it’s been tied at the end where the fur is just beginning to grow back. Hopefully it won’t be long before he’s completely comfortable in his new home.

First look!

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