I have a tradition of having two cats at all times, so I adopted 'Butterfly' who I renamed 'Butterball' for her chubby shape along with another elderly cat...I always ask for the ones that no one wants, saving me from making a 'Sophie's Choice' at the shelter. I soon found out why--she expressed her upset at the change in her living situation by peeing all over the rug while she hid underneath the dining room table, as well as on the (only) silk pillows I own. [Side note--someone should weaponize cat pee]. So I found the local rug company that has the pet urine service, and bought new pillow inserts and we moved on. She retreated to the upstairs bedroom and hid under the bed for three straight months, and I quickly installed a litter box in the bedroom for the first time in my life. Months became years and she would emerge in the middle of the night to sleep on my feet and then retreat to back under the bed before dawn (this is a 13 lb cat, so I heard the thumps). I also caught her taking nap in the sun on top the bed a few times, and she always looked panicked and guilty. I put a cat bed under the chair in the bedroom, where she would take a lookout position and come out for a brushing, but in the morning only and only if there was eye contact as I called her name and she could see the brush in my hand. She was fat enough that she had trouble grooming her fur so she loved to be brushed and have her back scratched--within a routine that she kept to like clockwork. I tried and failed to switch her to wet food and to slim her down--it did not fly, except she loved specific toys to death and wouldn't play with any substitutes. She did not come down the stairs for 6 straight years until the other cat died--and it was then that her true personality bloomed; she would struggle up onto the couch to watch tv with me, she leapt up on the bed whenever she saw me (a two step process--she was a chubby cat who had to do it in stages) and generally waited by the front door for me to come back, or would come thumping down the stairs two paws at a time when she heard the front door. She was a darling, troublesome, neurotic and in her own awkward way, most loving little cat I ever had (who, PS, threw up more than any cat I've ever lived with). The day she died, I had no clue anything was wrong, she just laid down on her side and never woke up--and I miss her friendly little fur-face every day. Adopt, and have patience with the elderly ones that have their quirks; they will reward you a thousand times.

KellyE
ALEXANDRIA, VA