Harmony and the Forever Home

A rambunctious kitty is adopted

Photo courtesy of the author

Her name was Harmony. I liked the name so much I kept it. She was a beautiful brown tabby cat living in a corner cage at the New York City ASPCA, where my friend Michelle and I first met her.

I had recently lost a beloved brown tabby named Oliver, who had gotten sick and had to be euthanized. I was lonely without an animal companion, so I went to the local ASPCA to look for another kitty. Michelle, who was visiting me, came with me.

Michelle spotted the kitty first, a beautiful tabby with lively, intelligent eyes that took in everything around her. We asked the volunteer who was with us to let us see the kitty. She opened the cage, took out the tiny inhabitant, and held her.

The cat’s name was Harmony, an 8-month-old adolescent kitty. Harmony bit the volunteer’s fingers, but we were assured they were “play bites,” nothing serious. Although I was very struck by Harmony, I wanted to look at more cats, so the volunteer put her back in her cage and led us up the aisle and around a corner, showing us other kitties.

It was then that Michelle saw a family group walking by Harmony’s cage. She nudged me and said, “If you want that cat, you’d better claim her now before those people get her.” That was all I had to hear.

We were led to the “socialization room.” A disinterested person was working on a computer, but other than that, there were only Michelle, the volunteer, Harmony, and me. Harmony was ecstatic to be let out of her cage. She wandered around the room, investigating everything, stopping only to acknowledge the presence of the humans in the room, especially me.

By this time, I was in love with Harmony, and I wanted to take her home with me.

The volunteer directed me back to the lobby, where an employee sat me down to interview me. He gave me a thorough interview, including a warning —

Harmony had been adopted out and returned to the ASPCA three times!

It seemed she was inclined to aggressive play and other mischief, including pawing at her humans' faces and eyes when they were trying to sleep.

Although this gave me concern, it didn’t stop me from wanting to adopt Harmony. They put her in a cardboard carrier, which she promptly tried to demolish. Michelle carried her in the half-shredded carrier while we took a car service back to my apartment, a considerable distance from the ASPCA. Fortunately, the carrier held up, and we didn’t lose Harmony on the way home.

When we got Harmony into my apartment, she wandered around checking everything out and poked a hole in the blinds on my living room window to look outside. I had a smart, resourceful, and mischievous kitty on my hands!

Photo courtesy of the author

Harmony quickly settled into life as an indoor cat with me and Michelle, who stayed for a couple of weeks. The kitty had an ingenious talent for inventing games. One of her favorite tricks was to take a running leap at whichever one of us was sitting at the computer, tag the person, and run away, making us laugh.

Her favorite game, though, was at bedtime. My apartment was laid out railroad-style, with the kitchen at one end and my bedroom at the other end. Harmony lurked in the kitchen. When she saw me turn out the light in the bedroom, she dashed through the apartment and into the bedroom to jump on me. I had to leap into bed fast in order to avoid being attacked by a playful cat! Eventually, I bought a lamp and put it next to my bed, enabling me to get into bed before turning off the light. This put an end to the game.

She wasn’t finished, though. She took to crouching next to my bed in the morning and jumping up at me when I rose up.

My ink-jet printer was fair prey to Harmony. Whenever she heard the machine start-up, she made a beeline for it in order to attack the paper as it came through. I had a time keeping my printed work out of the way of marauding kitty paws!

Over the years, Harmony matured and mellowed. She is now thirteen years old, going on fourteen. She can no longer jump onto the top of my filing cabinet or tear through the apartment. Her days of inspired game-playing are long past. She has, however, become extra loving in her older age. She loves being brushed and petted. Sometimes she gives me an impromptu nose nudge just to let me know she loves me. She’s diabetic now, and I give her insulin shots twice a day.

I love her very much and hope to have her around for a few more years. When she finally goes to her reward, I will be devastated but I hope I will see her again when my time comes to pass over into the Great Beyond. She adds a great deal of love, life, and humor to my existence. I have been blessed to have her in my life all these years.