Tomorrow is the first anniversary of our adopting Normandy, the single sweetest cat I have ever had the pleasure of sharing a space with. The remainder of this blog post will be me gushing about my sweet black cat, so you’ve been warned.
I don’t call her the sweetest cat I’ve ever known lightly. Prior to her adoption, my dear orange boy Scamp was the sweetest cat when it came to cuddles and affection, but she edged him out for my top spot only because he was sometimes a schmuck to our other cats. Normandy has never so much as raised her voice to Mugsy, or to our temporary guest Angel.
Normandy has come to be known as “the princess” of our house. A sleek and pretty black cat who has a demure meow and regal way of seating herself. She likes her treats offered by hand and her food occasionally stirred. Her throne of choice is the fold of my legs, which she curls up in whenever I’m stretched out on the sofa.
Normandy’s method of self-defense is unique among cats I’ve known. Instead of hissing and swatting when she’s threatened by another cat (i.e. Angel) she instead chooses to act like a damsel-in-distress. I’ve never heard a cat meow in a manner that sounds like “Oh please, someone help me!” before, and I’ll be damned if it works… because my wife and I come running to save our resident damsel.
The most remarkable thing about her, to us, is how quickly she made herself at home when we adopted her. She’s only been with us for a year but we can’t imagine the house without her. Normandy became so comfortable with us so quickly, not to mention our house and the cat already living here, that it feels like she’s been with us for many years instead of just the one.
But there’s also a dark cloud that hangs over my mind. We knew she was positive for FIV when we adopted her, but additional bloodwork after her adoption last year revealed she also has FeLV. Neither are a guaranteed early death sentence (from what I understand), but the knowledge of her conditions lingers in the back of my brain with every cuddle and bit of affection she gives me. Now, any time she shows the tiniest bit of discomfort there’s a panic attack I have to fight off.
I choose not to focus on that until I have to, because there’s little point in doing so. My wife, my son, and I will continue to give this sweet princess the best life we can for as long as she’s with us, which I hope will be a long time to come because it’s already felt like she’s been with us forever.