We had moved to a new town, into a new-to-us house and we were all set up for retirement. The only thing needed to make our home complete, was a cat.

We visited the local Humane Society. The facility was located in an old house and most of the rooms contained typical furniture -- of a bedroom, a living room, etc. Each room had 10-12 cats living free, not in cages, but roaming around. The "prospective parents" went into a room and the door was closed. Cats were given a chance to interact with the visitors, sit on their laps, wind around ankles, or otherwise sell themselves into a new home.

The last room in the house was filled with storage boxes, which created different elevations on which cats could perch. At the highest level sat a thin, gray cat, with his ears pulled back, looking fearful of everything around him. When my 6'4" husband walked up to this cat, they were eye-to-eye. Suddenly, the cat's paw reached out for my husband's shoulder and he leaned up to give him a kiss. He was completely won over.

The cat was named "Shadow" and he looked like a waif. It was explained that he had no claws. I had never heard of such a thing and I was horrified. Of course we decided to claim Shadow as our own.

Shadow quaked all the way home in the car. Although he was wrapped in a towel for warmth, he was thoroughly miserable. We decided we would have to give him endless, unconditional love.

When we reached home, Shadow suddenly perked up and became "Inquisitive Cat." He checked out all the rooms. He drank water and ate dry food. He used the kitty potty. Then he diplomatically sought out my husband and sat in his lap.

We had watched Shadow's exploration. He seemed lean to the point of being scrawny. His whole underside was bare of hair as though he had been shaved. And when we felt his stomach, we discovered what seemed to be hairballs, even though he was a shorthaired cat. From the way he scratched his ears, we feared he also might have ear mites.

Within two days, we had Shadow at the vet's. When I complained about someone shaving a cat's stomach, the vet pointed out that it was Shadow, himself, who had licked all the hair off, probably out of nervousness at being around so many cats from which he could not defend himself. He said that also explained the hairballs. When I asked how someone could remove a cat's hind claws, as well as the front ones, the vet explained that the previous owner had probably had a blood disease like hemophilia, and could not take the chance of an accidental scratch from a cat's claw. Suddenly, we realized that the homey environment of the shelter, which was so comfortable for most cats, had been a severe disservice to Shadow.

We doctored Shadow's ears, fed him well, and nourished him with lapping, talking and petting. Within a month's time he was growing beautiful hair all over, with a lovely silvery sheen. He gained weight and began to look like a normal cat. We renamed him "Silver Shadow."

One day, I heard a galumphing sound coming down the hall. Shadow burst into the room at full speed, ran through the bedroom, and made a U-Turn in the adjacent bathroom. He ran at full tilt back into the living area and made another U-Turn. Again he came back into the bedroom lickety-split, and jumped onto the bed where I was sitting.

He carefully walked up to me, put his nose on mine, and I would swear he smiled. Then he curled into a ball and began a loud, contented, purr. Silver Shadow was home, finally!

Copyright © Elizabeth Tackaberry
August 29, 2001