Leblouche's diary

22. A cat named Floufette

I noticed that ever since I moved in, I've always felt this sense of loneliness when I come home. I know it's part of adulthood, but it's very unsatisfying. So, I decided to do something my parents never allowed me to do: adopt a pet.

I had this feeling not only because of the atmosphere at home but also because of one of my colleagues, Laura, who lost her cat. She's known in our office for her crazy love for cats, and seeing her cry over a picture of Moufie (the cat's name) broke my heart.

"Don't cry, Laura, your cat is probably playing with other cats in heaven," Mariam comforted her.

"Yes, but *sniff* he wasn't supposed to disappear *sniff* so suddenly, and he was so... so... so cute! *she sobs*," she cried.

"At just 12 years old*, he was already ready for retirement; he probably went to have tea with his ancestors!" Antoine joked.

*12 feline years equal 64 human years.

Everyone looked at Antoine in annoyance.

"Well, what? It's the truth, isn't it?" he insisted.

So, I asked several people, including Laura, for advice on how to adopt a cat, the perfect living conditions for adopting one, the needs a cat must have...

"So, I wonder if I'm eligible to adopt a cat; I just want some company, you know?" I inquired.

"The procedures can vary depending on the establishment, you know. It's better to go to PetHouse (fictional establishment); that's where I met Moufle. They can explain everything to you," Laura said.

"Which PetHouse is closest?" I asked.

"The only one I know of is in the 18th arrondissement; it's true it's a bit far since I lived there at the time."

"That's okay, with my bike it'll take... maybe 30 minutes. Not counting traffic jams."

I decided to go to the pet store Laura had recommended on a Saturday. A few days before going, I checked out their website, especially their cat catalog, and I must admit I spent a lot of time looking at their photos instead of their info, distracted by their attractiveness.

"I wonder which cat I could choose; it needs to be a cat that can keep me company but isn't too clingy or aggressive," I thought.

When I arrived at the shelter, I entered and headed to the reception, where I explained the purpose of my visit:

"Hello, I'd like to visit the cats available for adoption," I asked.

"For the cats, you'll need to go to the cat reception area, second glass door when you leave this reception," the man at the reception advised me.

I followed the instructions the employee gave me and arrived at a place with chairs and tables with magazines on them. I now understood; I had to wait, and I was lucky; I was alone.

After a few minutes, I heard footsteps; it was the volunteer assigned to welcome me.

"Hello, sir, please follow me," the volunteer politely requested.

I followed the young woman through the establishment; the walls were adorned with pictures of animals and advertisements, with also painted paw prints of various colors serving as decoration. As we walked, I could see rooms where abandoned animals were cared for and treated.

"You know, I'm only here to meet the available cats and also to inquire about certain procedures. I don't think I'm ready just yet," I said.

"I understand, adopting an animal requires a lot of preparation," the volunteer replied.