Cats
Minikin

Really, there is only me, but I feel like I have been two different cats. My name is Minikin and this is my story. Back in 2003 on a frigid January evening, I was found, a lonely little kitten, in Joliet, IL. I was taken to Joliet Animal Control and it was there that a staff member from West Suburban Humane Society saw me, scared and alone in a cage. She was picking up dogs to bring back to WSHS, but took pity on me and scooped me up as well. I settled into life at the shelter pretty well and soon a family came along who wanted to make me part of their family. I was so happy in my home. There were kids and other cats to play with and I could lounge on a bed or in the sun whenever I wanted. It was a joyous life of fun and freedom. Then, after four years of blissful living, my family fell on hard times and had to move to a place that didn’t allow cats. Can you imagine a place where we wouldn’t be welcome? Anyway, this was devastating to me. I was so anxious and fearful to be ripped from my home and placed in a wire cage, surrounded by others in the same predicament. None of us could understand what we had done wrong to land us here. All I had to cling to was the hope that this would be temporary and that my family would come back for me. I watched and I waited and I paced my cage, but they never came back. That is when I became a different cat. Loss of hope can really change a person, and it’s like that for cats too. As time went on, I became more and more depressed. I am ashamed to say that I became difficult to manage and eventually, none of the volunteers wanted to spend time with me. I don’t blame them. I was acting very bratty for a very long time. After a while I just let myself go. No one could trim my nails and I used them on everyone who tried to interact with me. I stopped cleaning myself and became covered in mattes, but I wouldn’t allow staffers to try and groom me. Finally, it got so bad, they had to take me to a vet where I was sedated and shaved completely. These were the darkest years of my life and I just didn’t know how to ask for help. Now here it is, 2009. I am seven years old and I have finally been given my chance. I guess the complaints about my behavior in the cattery became so frequent, I was recently moved to a space in a different building. Here I am away from most of the barking dogs and I am allowed out of my cage to roam the building like a regular cat every couple of days. This change alone has allowed me to feel hope again. My favorite times are when I am out. I love to be with people and “helping” with the chores around here. I help stock the food and I help in the office. If there are people working, I am there. They love it when I rub myself all over them and flop down for a belly rub on their work. I am alive again and feeling like my old self. I almost didn’t recognize me; it has been two years since I lost my home. I am confident my time is coming soon. I have a nice large spot right by the front door here where I can see all of the comings and goings. Everyone says how beautiful my long, tri-colored fur is. I just have one or two requests for my forever home. I am afraid of dogs and it has been a really long time since I lived with cats, so I may do best as an only pet. I was good with kids in my last home, but really little ones might pull on my luxurious coat by accident, so older kids might work out best for me.  This tale of two kitties will have a happy ending. It just hasn’t been written yet.

WSHS is running an adoption special.  Because I have been at the shelter for over a year, I can be adopted for the special fee of $50 in the months of March, April and May. 

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