Fluffy monsters, furry nightmares: meet my cats, part 2

About three years after I adopted little Hisashii (read about her adoption here), I struck out on my own. By this I mean I bought my own place… just a small one-bedroom condo. But it was 787 square feet of the world that belonged to me–and, of course, Miss Hiss. I took to living alone marvelously; however, my baby girl did not. Every night I came home from work I could hear yowls of heartbreaking misery from the other side of my building.

Someone did not like being solo all day.

After a couple months of continuous crying, I realized that I needed to do something about it.

So I went back to the shelter.

Before making my way there, double-checking hours and whatnot on the shelter’s website, I came across this photo:

echo

I giggled. The cocked head got to me. I made a note to get his story when I was there.

And what a story it was. His name was Echo; he had been at the shelter for two years. Someone briefly adopted him, but brought him back for being “too loud.” People didn’t want a long-haired cat, as they are more work than short haired. Having been such a long resident of the shelter, his adoption fee was only $25.

“He’s got a chip on his shoulder, having been here so long,” a volunteer said. “But he could probably do well with another cat.”

I was sold. He was younger than Hissy, good-looking, and–I had a hunch–not as smart as she. All wonderful qualities for a good boyfriend! I packed up my clearance kitty and headed home.

I’ve had Echo in my household for nearly five years. Between Hisashii, me, and him, he is the prima donna of our lair. He is good-looking and knows it… and if you are not on his good list, he has no trouble letting you know it.

Like so:

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But, most of the time, he does your typical LOL hang-out-in-a-bag cat thing:

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…or head-stuck-in-a-boot:

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Or chillin’ in a basket:

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But he’s sweet most of the time. He likes to be brushed (which Hissy does NOT), and he’s really cute when he sleeps:

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But the best part? When I come home from work, I no longer hear Hissy howling her head off down the hallway of my condo building.

Instead, Echo does it for her.

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2 thoughts on “Fluffy monsters, furry nightmares: meet my cats, part 2

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