Mostly Gracie

This is Gracie.
Gracie is a Norwegian Forest Cat.  That means she is ideally suited for the frozen terrain of the forests of Norwegia.  I mean, she has built in snow-shoes for cryin’ out loud!  No lie – she has HUGE tufts of fur on her paws, meant to protect her feet when she walks across the snow and ice.
In Norwegia.
Except, of course…..we live in Maryland.  Which is not known for its Artic tundras and stuff.  Seems the evolutionary advancements are lost on Miz Gracie.  (Seriously, if you’re interested in such things, go Google “Norwegian Forest Cat”.   They’re kinda cool)
So yeah…..I’m one of those people who has a purebred cat.  Now I know, I know…..so many homeless cats need to be saved from shelters, BELIEVE ME, I know….and sometime soon I will be writing a post about a very special person, a good friend of mine who has started an animal rescue in Baltimore.  I am humbled by her.
So normally, yes, I would have gotten a rescue cat.
Except….
The man I married a few years back (as opposed to the man I married who fathered my children or the man I married when I was just a kid…..yeah, me + marriage = fail….but that’s another topic for another post and possibly a whole ‘nother blog altogether.)
Wait.  Where was I?  Let me start over.
I was single, living with my brother, no cats of my own but sharing housing with his two cats.  I was a relatively happy, NOT crazy, cat lady. 
Then I met….well, let’s call him….um….you know?  I don’t think I need a name for him.  I’m not going to talk smack about him but I don’t have a lot of good to say either, so I don’t think I’ll be talking about him much at all…..so for the purposes of this entry, we’ll just call him That Man.
So I was single and doing my share of dating but I was also totally head over heels for the Duke of Dork.  I wanted more from our friendship but finally had to face the fact that it was never going to happen.
And then I got a Random MySpace Message.
Y’all do remember MySpace, yeah?  Home of the crass, Land of the illiterate?  Where single (and sometimes even UNSINGLE) women were subject to the most unintentionally hysterical come-ons and if you were a single woman OVER 30, holy cow!  How many “heh heh heh….you like younger guys? heh heh heh” messages did me and my friends get?  A LOT!  Plus the ones that just said, “Nice rack!”  Or even worse, messages that just consisted of just a picture?  (Use your imagination)
Now, for every 20 Random MySpace Messages, there may have been ONE decent one.  Heck, one of my bffs is now in a LTR with a guy she met on MySpace (about four years now, I think?)  So it wasn’t all bad.  But sorting out the decent sounding guys from the tools….well, it could have been a full time job.
But when I got that first message from That Man, he managed to catch my attention.
1)      He spelled all his words correctly.  And spoke in full sentences.  With punctuation.  Be still my heart!
2)      He told me he was a chef, living in Baltimore.  Well, hello!  I am a food geek!  Nice to meet  you, Chef!
3)      He grew up in my hometown and went to the same high school as my brother, at roughly the same time
So I decided to give him a shot.  I replied to his message, we wrote back and forth for a while, finally had our first date and even though I wasn’t sold on him, I was also rebounding from the Duke and allowed Lola Granola to talk me into a second date.  And then he talked me into a third and before I knew it we were living together and then engaged.
Yeah.  We got engaged after six weeks of dating.
But we’re not going to talk about THAT.
The thing is, I have ALWAYS been a (not crazy) cat lady.  I grew up having multiple cats, as an adult I had multiple cats, it wasn’t until I married my children’s father (The Ferocious Beast) that I downgraded to just one cat.
And then when he and I split, I lived temporarily with my parents who had multiple cats and then, as mentioned, with my brother and HIS small multitude of cats.  And I always planned that once I was living on my own two feet again that I would once again amass a Feline Army.
Except?  That Man?  Was allergic to cats.
After much wailing and crying and moaning and gnashing of teeth and serious consideration of just breaking off the engagement, I started researching options.  Like getting a cat that had been genetically engineered to be non allergenic.  (A concept that seemed….ethically shaky to me.  And also, not cheap).  Also considered hairless cats but, no.  Ew.  I like to pet that cat and pet that cat and I just couldn’t see petting that cat and petting that cat if there was no hair.
So I started talking about air filters and daily vacuuming (NOOOOO!!!!!  Vacuuming = SUCK!) and then he said, “I used to have a Norwegian Forest Cat that I wasn’t allergic to.”
Hey now!  What’s that?  I was skeptical.  I’d never heard of the Norwegian Forest Cat and That Man was notorious for making things up.  Like desert dwelling penguins.  And venomous flamingos.  And stone babies (Okay, he didn’t actually make up stone babies but I was sure he had until I Wikipedia’d it.)
But….turns out….it’s a real breed.  And they (and to a lesser degree Maine Coons) seem to not affect allergies for a lot of cat allergic folks.  Those were my finding at least.  Based on extensive internet research.  Or, you know….30 minutes with Google.  Either/or.
So we started making plans to adopt a Wegie (as they’re sometimes known and this is NOT to be confused with wedgie, please and thank you).  We decided to wait until we got married and moved into a bigger apartment and then we would locate a breeder and I would have a kitty of my very own to pet and snuggle and cuddle and call George.
Or Gracie.
(Sidenote!  During the weeks leading up to the adoption of Gracie, I made much mention of the Norwegian Forest Cat on Facebook. For whatever reason, Facebook took notice of my use of the word “Norwegian” and deduced that *I* was Norwegian and that all the ads they displayed to me should be….Norwegian.  In the language of Norwegia.  Which I do not speak.)
So we finally move and find a breeder and I drive two and a half hours and the house is full top to bottom of kitty cats and Buttercup, my kitty cat loving daughter was in kitty cat heaven and I scooped up the first little kitty cat I saw and she nestled under my chin and stayed there as I looked at and petted all the other little kitty cats and she just sat there and purred and purred and purred and that is how I found my Gracie.
And this post has become much longer than I thought so the stories of Gracie and her Kleptomania and Gracie and the Dogs and Gracie and her Anger will have to wait until another day.
Say g’night Gracie!
(*Yes, yes, I know, Norway.  But Norwegia is a lot more fun to say.  Try it now!)
Share/Bookmark

3 comments:

Suniverse said...
October 24, 2010 at 12:02 PM

Fantastic! I love stories about how people get their pets [I've yet to run across a lame one].

Thanks for stopping by my blog.

Suniverse said...
October 24, 2010 at 12:09 PM

PS - I love that you lick paper after a dry pen writes on it. I really, really do.

FallDown Girl said...
October 24, 2010 at 7:50 PM

And thank YOU for coming by! And....for not judging on the whole licking thing. *grin*

Back to Home Back to Top Fall Down.....BOOM!. Theme ligneous by pure-essence.net. Bloggerized by Chica Blogger.