Socks the Cat

Debbie is having a meet your pets party, so I thought I'd share the story of Socks. 

About 8 yrs ago, before I started this SAHM gig, I was working part time as a receptionist at a flooring store.  One Saturday morning I noticed a meowing coming from the dumpster by the back door where employees entered the store.  I checked out the situation, and there was the scrawniest little kitty ever.  She was just a bag of bones, but friendly as could be.  I brought her inside.  The store owner found a cardboard box and a scrap of carpet for her.  She sat at my feet and just purred her little heart out.

I called Computer Genius and asked him if we could keep her.  He said, "NO, Absolutely not."  The delivery guys were heading out and I asked them to drop her off at my house.  I called CG back and said, "I made an appointment at the vet for Monday and the delivery guys will be dropping her off in about a half an hour so you're going to need to run down to Target and grab a litter box and some litter and some cat food."  CG did not freak out on the phone.  He did not refuse delivery of the kitty.  He ran out and bought some cat supplies.  Did I mention how awesome my hubs is?

Whirling Dervish threw out some crazy names as possibilities, but her little white paws were begging to be called Socks.  We read the Beverly Cleary book and WD was on board with the name choice.  I wish I could find some pictures of how tiny she was, but my picture files are a mess and I couldn't find a single one.  When we brought her to the vet, she guesstimated that Socks was about 6 months old, but when she flipped her over, Socks had full nipple development and was at least a year old.  She was just starving.

I've never been a cat person, my family always had dogs when I was growing up, and not tiny little lap dogs - great big pull you on skates dogs.  But Socks is my girl.  She is the lone female roommate in a house full of boys.  She sleeps on my chest and if I've been away for a few days, she sleeps on my head.  She likes to be on my lap when I'm at the computer, although she hates that I've been sitting on a yoga ball since the start of the year.  She loves when I knit.

Socks is a neurotic little thing.  I don't know if it's stems from when she was a dumpster kitty, but she spent the first year with us running and hiding every time we would open the front door.  She hates change.  My brother and his pug Buster stayed with us for a year.

She developed a bald spot on her back from the stress.  Her hair grew back when they moved out, but 2 years later we reno-ed our kitchen.  The stress of the remodel brought the bald spot back.  Her hair only started growing back after the backsplash was finished and the kitchen stopped being a work zone.  They say that your pets grow to be just like their owners.  So I suppose neurotic wouldn't be the worst adjective to use to describe me.  And this, "why are you sneaking up on me to take my picture" look that she's giving solidifies the deal.  We're exactly alike.

Thanks for popping in and meeting my dumpster kitty.