In 2004, I adopted a cat who was about one year old and weaning her second litter of kittens. Moo, named for the sound she made, was first rescued by friends Chad and Tiffany from a kill shelter. When I met Moo, she dropped her kittens in my lap and took a nap while I looked after them. Then, she came and gave me a headbutt. It was love at first bonk. Once her kittens were old enough to be adopted out, she came home with me and my partner at the time.
Moo is arguably the greatest cat in the world. She’s fluffy, she purrs, she talks, she knows tricks. I adore this cat. In grad school, I had a dream that I physically gave birth to her (probably a product of the stress of grad school and the comfort she provided when I got home feeling bad every day). Moo keeps me humble — every once in awhile, she places a hairball right where I’ll step in it. Moo keeps me stylish — I find tasteful accents of cat fluff on every outfit.
For those doing the math, Moo’s about 13 years old. She’s in excellent health; last year, she had a dental surgery to preempt future problems. Other than that, she has never had a major medical procedure (aside from spaying).
Sometimes, things as a pre-tenure professor get a little overwhelming. On the toughest of days, I know I can rely on Moo to sit on me and purr until I get out of my funk.
So, here’s to Moo!