The Bot.

After the loss of my longtime cat and companion, Amy, at the beginning of March, we were a single cat household, with Bits having his run of the place. He and Amy weren't the closest of friends (she was more of a people cat), but it certainly seemed that he felt the void after she passed. After the initial devastation subsided, we began to feel the void, too. And, by the overly excited way in which Bits was greeting Joy when she came home from work, it was clear he was spending some lonely days at home during the workweek.

We talked about it, and decided that while we were still grieving for Amy, getting a pal for Bits might be in his best interest. I was hesitant, and made it clear to Joy (and subsequently myself) that if we did get a new cat, it wouldn't be done under the guise of attempting to replace Amy. To make this even more transparent, I proposed some guidelines: no girl cats, no gray/blue cats, and no fat cats (Amy was wonderfully all three). The search criteria was agreed upon, and we started to feel out the internet for what our options were.

We talked to a few shelters, and one asked if Bits had been snap tested for FeLV. He hadn't, so we immediately made an appointment to get him checked. Turned out he was negative for leukemia, but the test revealed he was positive for FIV. We were disheartened, to say the least. Our longtime cat had just died, and now our remaining cat had been diagnosed with an incurable disease. After some kind and reassuring words from the vet, we began to look on the positive side, and accepted the fact that we could indeed get another cat, but he would just have to be FIV positive as well. So, after discussing the new scenario, and also determining that we wanted to get a cat that was roughly in the same age bracket as Bits, we went to the OHS and asked 'em what they had in a male, FIV positive feline.

The first cat we were shown was named Silver. He was described as "depressed" and preferring affection "on his own terms." The intrigue was mounting. We were taken to his cage, where we were presented with a curled up mass of thick, metallic fur. We said hello, and he raised his oversized cranium to look our way. He was a unique looking cat: glossy, umber eyes, huge paws, and a flattish face. Not bad. We were asked if we wanted to meet him in one of their little rooms where we could let him walk around, and we anxiously said yes. They brought him in, set him down, and after seeing him stretch his back legs out, we looked at each other and knew he was a good one. During the adoption process, we found out that he had been at their facility for three months, and was rarely let out of his cage because of his FIV status. We couldn't blame him for being depressed.

Silver came with a care package and story. He was a stray, a cat who came through a woman's cat door one day and helped himself to the food she was providing for her own cats. This became routine, and after making sure that he didn't belong to anyone, she took him to the vet with plans to make him part of her family. When she found out that he had FIV, she had to, in the best interest of her other cats, take Silver to the Humane Society and hope they could find a good home for him. She left a bag with him, containing ribbons for him to play with, a bag of the food he had been eating, and a really sincere card thanking the folks who were getting such a great cat. The ringing endorsement made us even happier to be taking him home.

He was quiet on the ride home, and he remained that way when we got there. He was scared, and we stepped back and let him settle in. One thing was immediately clear: he wasn't a Silver. After kicking some names around for a few days, we eventually settled on Nimbostratus, because we thought he looked like rain clouds. And, it seemed like a pretty sweet name. We called him Nimbus for short. That eventually morphed into Nimbot, then The Nimbot, and finally just The Bot. And now, more than ever, he is The Bot. It somehow sums him up perfectly.

The Bot's fur was severely matted when we brought him home, and after feeble attempts at combing some of them out, it was clear we were on the losing end of the battle. So, when we took him to his vet for his initial check-up, we asked what we could do. The option of combing out was suggested as doable, but probably extremely time consuming, and certainly not fun for either party involved. The other option: get The Bot a haircut.
He didn't mind a bit. He still had his leg warmers and a little puff on the end of his tail, I thought it made him look quite dashing. We agreed that he looked like he was wearing a short sleeved sweater. It's growing back now, and we're making sure to comb it whenever we can to prevent him from getting those snarls again.

The Bot keeps to himself quite a bit, but he also loves to lay on my chest and watch TV, or walk on us while we're sleeping. He does enjoy a good ribbon, and he'll chase the laser pointer before he remembers it's uncatchable. He likes to be pet while he eats. He'll wait by the edge of the kitchen, patiently, and when I walk in there, he swivels around and makes a little noise, letting me know he's ready. He'll stand in front of the food bowl, and after I rub his sides for a few seconds, he's revved up and ready to eat. Then he digs in.

But that is The Bot, he plays by his own rules.