Two Cats and Their Human: The Human Part 1
The Journey of How I was adopted by Nalia, became tolerated by Salem, & eventually loved by both of them enough to sort of Level Up from Human Servant (which I still am, of course) to Human Mama
Hello hello, Fellow Musers! For this post I’m doing a different thing and am going to talk about how I became the human caretaker of my two cats. I’m going to do this in six parts: My version (Parts 1 &2) and then their version in four seperate posts, with a post narrated by their kitty uncles who are (hopefully) getting along in the kitty afterlife (TW: multiple, yet brief mentions of animal deaths). The maths say that is six seven cat posts in total. Huzzah! By the time this post reaches you, I will have already gotten the cats versions typed up, and once released you’ll be able to find their posts in Artist’s Corner, as I see those posts more as creative projects rather than anthropological musings. You could also consider this mini-series as somewhat of an auto-biographical zoo-ethnography if you want.
Although I don’t consider this series as an example of an ethnography, in the spirit of ethnographic writing, I will lay out the order of how this post (Part 1) and its second post (Part 2) will read:
1.) I will give an introduction (Part 1)
2.) A background of my history with cats and dogs (Part 1)
3.) How I brought both Nalia and Salem inside (Part 1)
4.) Nalia and Salem adjusting to life inside (Part 2)
5.) Salem coming in with a surprise that ended in tragedy (Part 2)
6.) Emotional recovery (Part 2)
7.) A conclusion and brief notes to how things be in the present day prior to Jan. 2024 (Part 2)
Again, not a fully written ethnography like how I explain in my Cultural Anthropology post, but somewhat close. Also, this post was completed back July 26, 2023, with some editing as I re-read through it prior to me releasing it into Substack. Partial confession: It was one of the reasons why my Cultural Anthropology essay was delayed. I explain why in Part 2.
Now, Fellow Musers and readers, after looking at and hemming and hawing about whether you should click the obligatory “Subscribe button”-if you are not subscribed…yet
and let us go onward to the main event!
Introduction:
Nalia and Salem.
Salem and Nalia.
Two sisters with a big bond that I believe will last their lifetime, however long it may be. I tell them both that I hope they’ll stick around for about 15 to 20 years. Nalia will give me a reassuring look, rub up on my leg, and wrap a reassuring tail around my leg. Salem…welp, Salem is Salem. I know that she trusts me, that she loves me, and she shows it through her looks, loud purrs, and occasional leg rub and tail wrap. But then she also reminds me that the reason I still call her queen (even though she can no longer have kittens) is because she is very much an independent lady, and she will do her own independent catwoman-ninja-sneaking things. Nalia tries to copy her sister in showing her independence, but she still has much anxiety so she tends to stay near me, or at least keep me in her sights when I’m at home.
As of the time this post was written, we are still living at my first home since I moved to go to school. 97% of the time, when I walk through my door, it’s Nalia who is waiting for me and will meow until I pick her up and give her cuddles. She then allows this for approximately 30 seconds to a minute before attempting to exert that independent side and starts moving around, both ladies’ signal that they are ready to be released from the cuddle.
Salem, I’m lucky to hold for that long. We’ve slowly been working our way up to the 30 second mark. I think we’ve reached the 15 second mark a few times, but I haven’t really been counting. It’s taken time, but I think 30 seconds is a good compromise.
Sometimes, when I release them from the cuddles, I put them on the floor, sometimes I put them on the couch, bed, crate, or cat tower. Sometimes they look at me in a way that I think says, “Thanks for the assist, I’ll allow one more pet and kiss.” Other times, they really need to be elsewhere and so jump off the high space, or start walking to wherever. Sometimes they (especially Salem) will take a few steps, and decide that that is a perfect spot to lay down on…and so they do. Doesn’t matter if I’m following behind and have to suddenly stop. They sits so they fits. Tis the rule, Human!
So how did they come to have me as their Human? Nalia-she is the one to blame.
Let’s go back…back in time…not to October of 2022 (last year, as of this writing) when this adventure began…nope, we gonna go waaay back to a bit of my childhood and talk about my history with kitty cats, then come around to October 2022 and work our way back to present day!
<Insert gentle time travel noise to your preference, fellow muser!>
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My Background with cats and dogs…but mainly cats
I wasn’t originally suppose to be around cats. The story goes, as I remember my mom telling it, that she took me in to get the wonderful <read: sarcasm> allergy tests. I passed all the tests…except the one for cats. I’m not sure how it was determined that I was allergic to cats-I should probably ask my mom if she remembers-but apparently she was told to NeVeR let me be around the cute furballs. Life be fucking hilarious, though, because the universe said, “Hehe, got a surprise waitin’ for y’all!”
My parents divorced when I was around 4 years old. Honestly, I don’t really have too many memories of them together as a married couple. The two memories that stand out the most is the three of us making pancakes one night, all of us having a good time.
The other memory is of me somehow going from my bed to the floor, crying out, and both of my parents rushing into my room to see what was going on. My dad lifted me up, held me, and my mom checked me and made sure I was okay.
After those two memories, it was the beginning of going back and forth between two households because they got divorced sometime later after the pancake night. My dad has always been present in my life, though, and I do give credit to both of them for co-parenting me together but separately, imperfectly yet successfully. Shortly after their divorce, my mom met this guy with two cats and that’s where this story truly begins.
<_>-<_>
Furbros Yo!
About a year after the divorce, my mom started dating the man who would eventually become my stepdad. My mom brought me and a feisty dachshund named Tiger into the family. Tiger was one of three of my doggy furbsiblings. He was technically my dog-my parents got him when they found out they were pregnant with me. When they divorced, my mom got Tiger. My dad had my other two doggy fursiblings-a yellow male lab named Rambo, and a black female mutt named Blackie.
I don’t remember too much of Blackie, but I do remember that she was very sweet. She was also my first fursibling death that I experienced. I remember that day: I was in fourth grade, the sky was quite blue, it was a warm and sunny day-a perfect day to be outside and play. My mom picked me up from school and told me the news. My dad was at work at the time so she went to be with Blackie while she was put to sleep. I was young enough to not have been bothered by Blackie’s death too much, but now that I’m typing this out for the first time, the memory still affects me, and while I’m not getting a clear picture of her, I remember her being gentle and patient with little me.
Later on, I would experience the passing of Rambo, who was always sweet to me and let me use him as pillow. After Rambo, Tiger passed, a few days short of turning 15. That loss hit me and my mom quite hard and took some time to pass. My dad had another dog, a Blue Heeler named Bella. Smart dogs, those Heelers. She eventually passed during my second year of junior college. My dad has not gotten another animal since, but he’s always been an animal lover, and he and Nalia had some funny stare-offs when they first met.
My stepdad brought two older kids (my sister and my brother-we are all six wonderful years apart, have dropped the step and are simply siblings. I think they’re two pretty awesome human beings, but I’m also biased)…and two, quite big, long-haired male cats. A tabby named Tuffy (he was a sweetheart to me and my mom) and a Maine Coon named Maynard, whom I sometimes called Maynpayne because sometimes he was a bit of an ass to me until I got older-some of which I admittedly deserved, most of which I didn’t and can blame my brother on.
Tuffy was clearly the alpha cat, and he could get a little rough with Maynard at times, but nothing past the normal cat sibling stuff. However, both cats’ favorite pastime was terrorizing Tiger. They were hardly physically violent with him, but they were masters at psychological terror. It didn’t help that they were both slightly larger than he was, both knew it, and Maynard continued the tradition after Tuffy died, but did not pass it on to his successor, T2, who was basically a shorthaired version of Tuffy, hence the name.
By the time T2 came around, though, poor Tiger had learned to avoid cats at all costs-which was confusing to T because that cat just wanted two things: to love everyone and to talk all. the. damn. time…unless he was asleep, and even that only lasted for a few hours during both day and night. After Tiger died, we became adopted by a Siamese cat whom my mom and stepdad named…Si. Short, simple, to the point. Absolutely no relation to the Spanish word sí (sí as in Spanish for “yes”). Honestly, should’ve just called him You Cute Little *Expletive*
Si…iiii. I could do a whole post on that boy. No, seriously, I could. I could, in fact, write a short zoo-ethnography about Si and Siamese cats in general. Cats already have big personalities, but this guy…well, the varying temperaments that we learned are common in Siamese was on full display in Si’s younger years. I was his roommate because he refused to get along with Maynard and T2-he wanted to be Top Cat and that was clearly not going to happen as long as the other two were around.
In our household, the male succession was clear: Maynard, T2, Si, and then whomever came after. Not Si, then Maynard, then T2. Nope, nope, nope! Si did become softer personality-wise a few years before he died, though. Long story short, there was not another cat (nor dog for that matter) added to the household until after Si died. And Si was one hundred percent absolutely, positively fine with that!
There has since been two more cats, Jeannie and Sam. Sam is the sweetest cat boi. Jeannie…is a female, short-haired gray tabby whose “delightful” personality I could also write another post about (but I don’t think I could dedicate an ethnography to her), apparently likes human men and “tolerates” human females; and the sweetest black lab mix dog named Bob added to the household. The three of them get along-meaning, Bob leaves the cats alone and the cats leave him alone, everyone goes joyfully about their day. I’ve heard that Bob and Sam are okay with one another, but Jeannie…well, Jeannie is Jeannie and I’m going to leave it at that. I’m also a proud aunt to two sweet dogs and a sweet, sweet cat named Ted (or Teddycat/Tedsters as I affectionately call him)!
It’s probably a good thing that there’s no voice recording of this post because for about five minutes all you would hear me say is, “Teddycat/Tedster+baby babble” in the same way that I talk to my babies!
Thus began my journey to becoming an almost crazy cat lady. Apparently I need three cats for that to happen, according to one of my friends who has two male cats. Once I’m able to live somewhere that I can become owned by a third cat and also add one or two dogs in the mix, then I’ll become a crazy cat lady. Huzzah!
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January 2023: Bringing My Chaos Bringer and The Shadow Ninja Queen Inside
Now that you know my history with cats…and dogs…but mostly cats, we can finally get to how I became adopted and owned by Nalia and Salem.
So back in October of 2022, I started noticing these two cats, one gray tabby who looked more Main Coony and one black, who weren’t kittens but also weren’t a full year yet, roaming around the neighborhood. I was in my second year of university, and had just started going to an 8 week archaeology-focused field school that month-we went for 8 weekends, and attended our normal classes during the week-so it wasn’t a great time to bring outdoor cats inside. During the week, I found myself putting food out for the cats, and then on the weekend I would leave to go to the field school.
Sometime within those two months, I was able to identify the gray cat as female and she started to let me pet her. The black cat would tease me, not let me pet it, but would occasionally touch its tail to my leg. By November, though, it was at that point that I knew I had been adopted and I began to semi-subconsciously formulate a plan to get them both inside my home. I had been able to convince them both to come inside (with me standing at the door and keeping it open) so that they could sniff around and hopefully get comfortable with being inside. I also officially named them Nalia and Salem-yes, as in Salem from Sabrina the Teenage Witch. And yes, my Salem has the same sarcastic attitude as her male counterpart, in case you haven’t been able to tell in the previous posts that she’s helped “write”. I should add, though, at the time, I didn’t know Salem’s gender, so I referred to her as a They/Them/He…until 3 weeks after I got them inside and found out He was in fact a She. I’ll get to that part in a bit-we mustn’t skip ahead now.
After the field school ended, I did finals, and then came winter break. During this time, I spent Thanksgiving Day afternoon in pain, and then that evening at the E.R. (or E.D.). I found out a few days later that I had uterine fibroids and an ovarian cyst, was advised to get a hysterectomy and also remove the cystic ovary1, and so I scheduled the surgery for the end of December.
During the Christmas holiday, and about 4 days before my surgery, we had some pretty cold weather-like single digits-for two days. I was able to bring Nalia in for two days, but I never saw Salem during that time. It did, however, give Nalia and I a chance to briefly bond a little bit more.
She hid under the couch a for a bit, and then would usually be in my bathroom by the toilet. Eventually, though, she let me pet her, she played with the toys I got her, and refused to use the cat bed. She ate her food and did her business in the litter box that she somehow already knew how to use.
On Christmas Day, however, she made it clear that she wanted to go back outside. It broke my heart, but I allowed it. In my mind, with my surgery coming up, I didn’t think it would be fair to my parents (who came up for it), to take care of both me and the cats while I was recovering during that first week after. So I let Nalia go outside, but I told her that the next time she came in, she was coming to her furrever home and she was going to be an inside kitty. She wrapped her tail around my leg and gave a little chirpy meow. It took her about 10 minutes of sniffing and checking out the porch but she went down the stairs. Each step out and away from the door had me whispering, “Please come back, my baby.” until she was gone down the stairs.
I cried after she left.
However, my dad was on his way, and when he got there he said, “When it gets cold and she needs a place to stay, she’ll know where she can come to.”
That night, Nalia did come back (sans Salem) to see me, and even came inside some of that week (with Salem in tow). She met my parents, was a little skeptical around my dad but would at least sit under a chair and keep an eye on him (the previously mentioned stare-offs), acknowledged my mom, and played with the toys I had gotten her. After my surgery, I started encouraging her and Salem to both come in and explore my apartment. Salem actually surprised me and came in on her own a few times, while Nalia would hang out with me by the door. I intentionally started planning to get both of them in starting February, but the universe had other plans in mind.
<=>-<=>
For some reason, when I tell this part, I always say, “Jan. 16 was when I brought them in.” The truth, though, is that it was January 24th when I brought Nalia in-right before a snowstorm hit. About two days later, on January 26, I got Salem to come in.
I actually tricked Salem into coming in and used Nalia as the bait. I was telling Nalia that if I saw Salem I would try to bring them in so that my sweet, chaotic princess would have a friend (and sibling), to play with and not be lonely and bored. A few minutes after I said that, I turned to my window and I saw a shadow looking in-a familiar shadow with yellow-green eyes looking inside inquisitively. Knowing who it was, I put a few treats in Nalia’s comfy carrier, and convinced her to go inside. I zipped up the carrier, opened my apartment door, and said, “Hey Salem, she’s in here!” Once Salem was completely inside and halfway to the carrier that Nalia was in, I shut my screen door quickly but without slamming it and shut my other, thicker door. Needless to say, Salem was NOT happy about that.
There was about 5 minutes of protesting and then she ran under the couch and proceeded to live under there for about 5 days, which confused Nalia because she just wanted all of us to get along. I assured her everything was going to be alright.
I left food and water by the couch during that time, and caught Nalia trying to eat said food a few times (she knew she had her own). Like Nalia, Salem also seemed to already know how to use the litter box, so I didn’t have to train her either. I’ve never looked for any previous owners, but I suspect both girls were born to some cats who lived across the street, in a house that is now being torn down for various, sanitary reasons2. They (along with their colony) were both also use to people leaving food and water outside for them and any other stray. I also wouldn’t call Salem completely feral, but she did take longer to build a trust and eventual bond with.
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~Note~
That’s it for Part 1. Don’t worry, Part 2 will be posted in two weeks. It will come with a trigger warning pertaining to death(s).
Next week will be an ode to my fursiblings, which will be in Artist’s Corner!
Thank you for reading Part 1 of how Nalia, Salem, and I became a family. Also, if you’d like, toss a coin or five my way, or donate to the cat’s catnip fund, starting at $5!
about what you liked about this post and/or my other posts! In future posts, I will either post a link (like above) or a fun custom button that you can click on if you’d like to support me and the cats with a small tip. As always, thank you so much for your support of my work!
Carpe Diem and Huzzah!
~Kimber, Salem, and Nalia
I had been dealing with ovarian cysts continuously since high school. Fibroids I had not heard about until I talked to the gynocologist a few days after my hospital visit. I will eventually write a post about the experience.
I thought the house was going to be torn down, but it’s still up. I use to go for walks up and down the street and one day when passing the house I saw a pink piece of paper that I assumed was an asbestos notice. I don’t know what happened to the couple that lived in the house, but it was abandoned for a bit. The house and the property was eventually cleaned up, and I’m assuming treated for whatever was the reason for the abandonment. It was still empty when I moved. I drove by the house a few weeks ago on the way to pick up an UberEats order, and it’s still there yet also doesn’t appear to be occupied by anyone.
Thanks, Kimber. Pretty accurate in your recollections of your younger self. .Your post brought back wonderful memories.
Love, Mom
(Can I have a hard copy of this?)
What an exiting an awesome series you’ve got cooking up, Kimber! A whole series on cats! I love it. Part 1 was great. I especially enjoyed the bit where you mentioned how one of your cats wants to be held as soon you walk in the door and the other is not as found of being held — it felt like you were describing my two cats haha.