Special Guest Post: Parker’s Story; The Adoption!

Parker on his first day out from under the bed. The clearest shot available of this wiggly kitten! Like lightning!

I moved to Boston without a cat. The guy I was dating was allergic (Note to self: That should’ve been your first clue it wasn’t going to work out!) and our apartment was tiny, so bringing the cat I’d grown up with was out of the question. That kicked off a 5 year period of cat-less living. When I finally had the opportunity to welcome a feline companion back into my life, I scoured the city for just the right match. It turns out finding a cat is a lot like online dating. Lots of them look awesome online, and then you get there and there just isn’t that spark that you’d hoped for. I’d been to a number of shelters and homes, each time disappointed and feeling terrible for having left a perfect lovely fuzzy little guy or girl behind.

One day I went to an adoption event planning to come away disappointed again and instead I fell absolutely in love. There in the crate was a quiet black kitten, patiently gazing at his rambunctious brothers and sisters with bright green eyes. I asked to hold him, and he settled in against my shoulder, looking around calmly while all the other cats cried about the hectic, unfamiliar surroundings. When he’d had enough he looked at me and quietly meowed. I’d finally met The One.

I started the adoption process right away. His foster mom had a hard time letting go, but I made sure to keep in constant touch, got my references and adoption fees to her within 24 hours, and got my apartment ready for his arrival. After what felt like ages, I brought him home with me, where he promptly hid under the bed for the next 24 hours. I don’t know what conclusions he came to while he was under there, but the next day he ventured out and was immediately snuggly and friendly to every person and cat he met. He’s never looked back.

Parker continues to be a snuggler, a friendly kneader and a curious guy who likes to have his belly scratched. I’m so proud to be a black cat owner, and wouldn’t have it any other way! We’ve had some great adventures in the seven years since the day we met. Check back here to read more of our story, coming soon!

Have you adopted a black cat? How did you meet?

Check Jennifer Spencer out at  jennalyns.wordpress.com.

16 responses to “Special Guest Post: Parker’s Story; The Adoption!

  1. Yes, we have Daisy, darling black kitty adopted 4-1/2 years ago from Animals Can’t Talk in Pennsylvania. She was 6 months old and had been given up for adoption when her owner’s boyfriend supposedly refused to care forvhet and the other pets when the owner had a family crisis out of state. She was impossible at first, escaping out a 3rd floor window screen to hang there until rescued, sneaking into (and getting shut in) the fridge unseen, jumping, falling, etc. Just as we feared she was too much for us, she mellowed and has been our sweet girl ever since! Black cats are awesome!

  2. My black cat adopted me. Years before my husband found a calico cat in his gym parking lot and took her home. She died of cancer. Immediately after her death, my husband and I found a black feral kitten in the parking lot of our gym. It’s near several busy roads and he ran away from us, but luckily my husband caught him. Obi (the kitten) bit my husband, who then handed him to me. He tried to get away from me at first, but then I rubbed his head and he started purring. He was underweight, tiny, and infected with three types of worms and terrible fleas. Now he’s such a pretty boy and he gives me hugs.

  3. I found a black cat in the garbage, since we are inseparable friends.

    • Awwwww!

      I’d like to dump that awful excuse of a human being in the garbage!

      Thank you for saving that innocent kitty! You’re a superhero, especially to your kitty!


  4. literaryaccident

    I found Pluto, and he chose me:

    My cat is a secondhand psycho.
    Don’t get me wrong, I love him as a best friend, a husband, a roommate and a child, but there is no denying the possibility of his mental instability.
    When I first met Pluto, his name was not Pluto. It was Rosebud, and I was not immune to the irony of such a friendly name for such an antisocial cat. His cage was hidden away in the back corner of the shelter, and on the door hung a sign, cautioning all who dared enter his cage to proceed with care: Rosebud was not a happy feline. Still, how could I say no to a large, black cat with huge yellow eyes?
    Prior to landing at the shelter, my jungle cat had lived with a homeless man in his car. Somehow, he had been neutered and declawed; the rest of his medical history was a mystery. In all honesty, this cat had no merits other than the fact he was breathtakingly beautiful and free. He was violent, old, and possibly unvaccinated.
    He was in the backseat of my car within the hour.
    The adoption process was quick and painless, a few signatures here and there. On the drive home, I patted the top of his kennel and thought about suitable names for such a handsome cat. I eventually settled on Pluto, taken from Edgar Allen Poe’s short story, The Black Cat. I was rather pleased with myself – you see, I just moved into my first apartment and adopting a cat was next on my “Becoming a Responsible Adult” checklist. Maybe this cat was a bit off his rocker…how bad could it be?
    Over the next few days, I had to deliver several pops to the noggin of my dear Pluto. While he never attacked me outright, Pluto had brought with him a habit of reacting violently to loud noises or sudden movements. He also refused to eat or leave my bedroom.
    Thankfully, after adjusting to his surroundings, Pluto eventually emerged from my bedroom, and began to consume his cat food is disgustingly large quantities. As a matter of fact, Pluto ate so much of his food so quickly, that he would vomit following feedings. About this time, he also developed sneezing fits so intense that he would fall over in the middle of them. I was convinced that not only was my new cat insane, he was sick. I called the vet.
    At the doctor’s office, they found no record of Pluto or Rosebud or any cat resembling him. They insisted on running a complete blood panel – since I had already fallen in love with the jungle cat, I agreed. Finding him totally healthy, he received his rabies and distemper vaccinations during that same visit. They also informed me that his sneezing was probably harmless and one of his back teeth was rotting and would have to be removed soon, a procedure that would set me back at least 300 bucks. That first visit only set me back $80, but knowing that our happy household has a major surgery on the horizon has certainly put a damper on my plans for a carefree summer.
    The sneezing fits cleared up on their own, thankfully, and I’m fairly convinced that Pluto’s dental situation is not as dire as the veterinarian claimed. Unfortunately, with the disappearance of one malady, another arose.
    Pluto began having these fits of absolute insanity. I would come home and find him cowering in the corner, absolutely terrified of some unseen creature. As soon as I had calmed him down, he would take off across the apartment, chasing yet another unseen creature. He also groom excessively during this fits, while his tail twitched uncontrollably. A thorough Google search informed me of the existence of feline schizophrenia. While the symptoms definitely fit, I refused (and still do refuse) to believe that my cat is legitimately insane. Another affair with the search engine revealed an interesting, and much more likely cause of Pluto’s crazy time: catnip intolerance. In all of my experience with cats, I’d never encountered such an extreme reaction to that particular kitty drug. Still, it seemed plausible, so I stashed all of Pluto’s catnip toys out of reach. Sure enough, that solved the problem.
    Now, Pluto is a pleasant, well-adjusted dude. He is no longer spooked by sudden movements and loud noises, accepting visitors graciously and without bared teeth. He’s learned to eat slowly without barfing on my hardwood floor, too!
    Yes, my cat is a secondhand psycho, but he’s the perfect pet for me!

  5. I’m a proud black cat owner too!
    Onyx was not even 1 month old when the family that owned the mother decided to euthanize her because they couldn’t find someone to adopt her.
    I was in shock the day my ex showed me the photo of that little black kitten and told me that the family had 2 little children that used to \”play\” with kittens as they were toys throwing and hitting her in the head and in her nose!
    Though my father didn’t wanted any pets and I am myself allergic to cats, I decided to take her home.
    Onyx was not sociable at all, she cried a lot and she was scared all the time… but in less than a week she had adopted me and she found herself at home.
    I have learned to know her: she doesn’t like to be alone but doesn’t like to be held in arms, she loves to sleep by my side when I\’m working on the computer, she loves to run all over my house at 5am, she has no sense of smell, she loves strawberries and strawberry pies and ice cream!
    She’s grown to be a little european panther, my daughter and my best friend!!!

  6. I adopted my first cat, solid black, 16 years ago. I lived in England at the time, and had two very serious reasons why the English didn’t want to let me adopt a cat: I’m American, and I was military. Apparently, each of those facts were evil, and the combination was unbearable. After a long search, I found a farm looking to give away a kitten. I went immediately and brought home Mintaka. A week later I found 2 more farm kittens.
    Mintaka was about 6 weeks older, and immediately acted as Lord Protector of his two little friends. He has always been very loving, social, and Alpha – to 3 much larger dogs. Mintaka is serene, calm, and always in control. He’s moved many times with me, adapting to new situations whenever required.
    My friends bring their dogs over to meet Mintaka in order to learn cats are not prey. He’s tolerant and even wins over self-professed cat haters.
    Mintaka was diagnosed with diabetes more than 3 years ago. He’s such a trooper. Even though he wasn’t overweight, neutered males who eat a primarily hard food diet are at increased risk of diabetes. He’s been hard to control steadily with insulin, but he’s worth every moment of frustration when his body’s needs change. He was recently diagnosed with a hyperthyroid as well, and we’re struggling to get him to eat. He’s scarily skinny, but his amazing personality is still intact. He loves to purr, he loves people and the other cats, and he likes to cuddle. I can’t imagine a more amazing feline friend.
    A while after I adopted him, I learned that black cats are harder to adopt. Given my experience with Mintaka, I will forever open my heart to black cats.

    • You might try RadCat raw food. They sell it frozen in chicken, and turkey. It’s important to have fed it to him no later than the third day after it had thawed out.

      He will devour it once he tastes it. It’s more like what they would eat in the wild, and without all the byproducts and unnecessary grains and veggies so many cat food has. * Cats are obligate carnivores, and I wish these companies would realize that.

      You might try YouTube for some instructional videos on an easier or more successful way to administer his insulin.

      Best of luck in getting some weight on him, and getting his medicine regemine stable!

  7. My current black cat adopted me. He was a feral who watched me from afar with our other cats, moving closer over the course of the months and weeks. One day while sitting on the front porch I was finally able to pet him (enticing with a Pounce treat hadn’t hurt). A few weeks after we had been ‘formally’ introduced, I left the front door of the house open and he walked inside. Hubby said he was taking measurements. lol The rest is history.

    He’s the second black cat that I’ve been owned by, and one of the two smartest cats I’ve ever had the pleasure to know.

    My first was w/ me for seventeen years, and though she’s been gone for several now, I still miss her very much. Hubby and I have always joked that she chose him for me. She didn’t like, and would come between the few other guys I dated in college, but when ‘the one’ came over she’d climb into his lap and purr. It was fate.

    Of course, that maybe should have been a clue to hubby as well. We haven’t been without a cat since. We’ve never been able to go out and formally adopt a cat, because they always come out of nowhere and adopt me.

  8. Blackie chose me. She was a feral kitten and we lived on a lake in a rural area, smack dab in the middle of the San Francisco Bay Area. We moved her food dish closer and closer to the house and eventually the back porch. I stood inside the screen door and talked to her while she ate. I moved closer and closer until I sat beside her. She was so hungry she couldn’t resist. Eventually we captured her and took her to be fixed. She mellowed instantly. For the next year, she remained essentially an outdoor cat, but occasionally would spend the night inside if it was especially stormy. When we moved to a suburban neighborhood, we came back for her last. We thought she would be an outdoor kitty, but the vet said to try to keep her inside for the whole weekend so she could get the smell of the new place. Yeah, right, we thought. She’s been inside every since and is a total lap cat and little love. I know, not a very original name. We had no idea she would steal our hearts.

  9. I adopted my Lola a little over a year ago. She turned five on May 1st, and she is a beautiful, all black DSH with yellowish eyes.

    She was a rescue kitty, taken in by a wonderful no-kill shelter, at eight weeks of age.

    It breaks my heart that it took four years before she was adopted (by me). I had not lived in an apartment that allowed pets for quite sometime. So, when I moved, I made sure cats were allowed.

    Since I grew up with a black cat, I have always had a fondness for black cats. Though, I love all cats, and all animals.

    I did not want to have the high maintenance of raising a kitten, so when I saw Lola’s (then Sunny) bio, and saw that she was four, I thought that was perfect. Old enough to not be climbing the drapes, yet young enough to enjoy lively playtime.

    She spent the last four years of her life with other cats, and really only knew one human that ran this non-profit shelter. So, once she started to realize she had a home, and attention all to herself, she was so overjoyed, she got over-stimulated which made her drool, and give me a love bite or two!

    She is the best thing to happen to me in a long time! She’s a rescue cat that really rescued ME.

    I cannot say enough wonderful things about her. She’s beautiful inside and out, and while it does make me sad that (because she is black), she had to wait four years for her forever home, I’m glad that I get to have her in my life! 🙂

    If you are not sure about sharing your life with a cat, let alone a black cat, I will give you some reasons why it’s totally worth it:

    She greets me at the door, exposing her belly and purring.

    She snuggles with me when I’m bed-ridden with migraines.

    She comes when I call her.

    She knows many words, (Milk, food, etc.), and is highly intelligent.

    She rolls and exposes her belly, and meows I’d I’m not looking at her, as if to tell me to come over and rub her belly.

    She looks me in the eyes knowingly when I praise her, as if she understands the meaning.

    She often headbutts me (Highest firm of affection and respect).

    She knows how to show me what she wants (Rugs at a toy she wants to play with).

    She loves attention. So much for the “Aloof” stereotype.

    I could go on, but I’ve already written a lot. 🙂

    My cat, Lola is wonderful, and she means the world to me.

    It’s sad that some people believe in superstitions. Pop-eye pronounced it best: “Stupid-stitions”

  10. Pingback: Special Guest Post: Parker’s Story; Moving! | Black Cat Rescue

  11. Mallie and Mordy's Mom

    I have two predominantly black cats named Malachi and Mordechai. Malachi is my oldest. I’ve had him for 12 wonderful years. My then friend’s cat was having kittens and I’d never owned a cat before. But she said I could have one for free and when they were born I went to see them before they got promised to other people. There were 3 girls and 1 boy. Before I met him, I decided I wanted the boy. When I arrived to see him, he was put on my lap where he proceeded to crawl up and down my leg. I fell in love. He was so tiny! His eyes were blue and later turned the brightest most perfect yellow in the world. He is my best friend and I feel we are connected to each other and I look forward to sharing many more wonderful years with him!

    My other boy, Mordechai, was selected out of a box of other kittens at a town festival. He was the only black and white one there, and I immediately felt that this was my Mordechai. I picked him up to take him home and noticed a wound in his head, near his eye. It was oozing blood and looked absolutely awful! I took him straight to the vet who then proceeded to pull a roly-poly worm out of my baby’s head! It was a scary experience and Mordy’s eye droops a little bit when he’s sleepy, but other than that he’s perfect. When I think back to the day I got him, I wonder if he would have had a happy ending if I hadn’t picked him. It makes me treasure him all the more.

    And those are my mostly black boys! 😀

  12. Pingback: Rescue A Lucky Black Cat This Halloween | Animal Fair | Wendy Diamond | Pet lifestyle Expert | Animal Rescue Advocate/ Celebrity Pets

  13. I have three wonderful black kitties. The first one was a kitten I agreed to take, without ever having met. He’s my Sebastian. Sebastian needed a companion, so I adopted Sidney. He’s all black, too, but much smaller than Sebastian. I then felt I could give one more kitty a home, so I adopted a female, this time. An almost all black tortie named Eva. They are all so wonderful, & are my babies. I love them so much. They are the sweetest kitties ever.

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