This is a picture of my cat. He is a yellow tabby Manx. Manxes are the cats without tails, and this guy has a little pouf of fur in place of one.
After college I moved to Denver for work. I lived alone and thought I needed a pet to keep me company. The apartment I lived in at the time did not allow dogs, which was what I preferred. I had considered myself a “dog person” up until that point, but my apartment situation made me consider other possibilities.
I did my research. I looked into different breeds of cats, and found the Manx breed is good for people who like dogs. They are playful and enjoy being around their people. As luck would have it, looking at the website of the Dumb Friends League of Denver, I saw a picture of a Manx kitten. The pictures they posted of the cats on the website were all of seemingly passive cats, sitting in the center of the picture very calm. The picture of this Manx kitten was blurry, and the only part of the kitten that was visible were its big eyes and ears in the bottom corner of the picture. The name they had given him: Chomper.
I drove to the Dumb Friends League animal shelter and was able to spend some time with the little Manx in one of the “interview rooms.” As soon as the shelter volunteer set him down on the floor, he was all over the place exploring the corners and nooks. I watched him for a few minutes before picking him up. He was a tiny thing, very light, with soft yellow fur and his lack of tail made him look like a skinny bear cub. I started scratching under his neck and he completely melted into my hands, savoring the attention. His affection was disarming, and I got choked up as the volunteer came back into the room.
“Well, what do you think?” She asked.
“He’s mine,” I answered. “He belongs to me.”
I paid the adoption fee and signed some papers, and carried the kennel that contained my new pet. As I was leaving, another volunteer waved goodbye, smiled and said, “Good luck with that one!”
He meowed in his kennel the entire was back to my apartment, and when I brought him inside he immediately began roaming around. I let him do so while I took care of some chores around my apartment. I forgot about him for a bit and realized I hadn’t seen or heard him for about half an hour. I looked all around for him and found him asleep on my pillow on my bed, with what seemed like a very pleased smile on his face, much like in the picture below:
Soon after I first brought him home I understood what the volunteer meant when she wished me luck. This is a cat who plays like a dog, chasing balls and shaking them in his mouth. He bit my friend on the head when she tried nuzzling his stomach. Even now, he will come up behind my husband and bite him on the ankles, just to try to get him to play. When he is feeling cuddly he wants me to carry him around. As a kitten he was easy to carry around while I did things around the house, loading the dishwasher or cooking. Now he’s quite a bit heavier, so needless to say I get a good arm workout.