Nearly six years ago I adopted a Main Coon. He was already seven years old at the time. I had not lived without a cat since I was nineteen or twenty and I had recently lost the two that had been with me since early 2000. I was devastated and I knew that I had to get another cat immediately to fill that empty space. The cat that I adopted had been at the shelter for some time. The cat that came in with him had been adopted, but this one was scheduled to be “put down”. Fortunately, an employee at the shelter managed to get him into a foster home, where he and I made our acquaintance.
The cat that I adopted was named BeBe. Who names their cat BeBe? It was so unbefitting of so regal a cat. I renamed him Rumi, after the well-known thirteenth century Persian poet. He seemed to appreciate his new name, responding to it readily. Rumi had spent his life as an indoor cat and at first I agreed to this since the people who lived above me had a cat-killing dog. I noticed; however, that Rumi seemed to be depressed. To be perfectly honest, I was depressed, as well. My cats have always been allowed to go outside during the daylight hours and accompany me in my garden. (In fact, that is how one of the cats that I had recently lost, appeared in my life.) I noticed that Rumi would only look out my one window for a few minutes and showing little interest, simply went back to sleep. I tried to entice him to play with various toys, but he only appeared to be bored.
Once I had moved out of the place with the vicious dog, I began allowing Rumi to go outside. He was quite frightened in the beginning. He still does not venture far from the door. Still, it is amazing what a little bit of freedom, fresh air, and exercise can do for a body. He had suffered from constipation which has improved with a healthier diet and exercise. He has been, without a doubt, the most finicky cat I have yet to know, but he is finally beginning to eat better. Since moving into my new home, where he has complete freedom and numerous windows to look out of, he is as happy as any cat could be. He is so changed from when he first came to live with me. He even plays these days!
For the first few years, I kept him at arm’s length. My grief over losing my other two cats was long in departing and I was determined that I could never love Rumi, as I had loved them. What I have discovered, though, is that I have at long last grown to love him. My heart had been closed, but together we have healed. He saved my life as much as I saved his.
