Infinite Sweeps

Hello everyone: I took the time to write about Frieda's long journey to her furever home. She's in sixth place so far. 
Frieda
America's Favorite Pet (americasfavpet.com)

Nevertheless, She Purrsisted
Two years ago, I lost a beloved rescue cat to cancer. He was a ginger, with white paws and a triangle crest of white on his chest. We never fathomed that we’d be saying goodbye to such a gentle soul so soon. At the age of eight, he started suffering from stomach issues and was unable to use the litter box. We rushed him to the vet, only to be called hours later and informed that he wouldn’t make it. He was “filled with cancer,” they said. To this day, it hurts my heart to think how I had to fight to get him into the carrier as he resisted. Not long after that fateful day, I decided to adopt another orange cat in honor of my precious boy. When some people lose an animal, they resist giving their heart to another because of how hard it is to say goodbye, but I feel differently. In my opinion, the best thing you can do to honor the memory of a deceased pet is to give another one a loving home. This is how I met my friend Frieda.
Rather than commit to an animal sight unseen, which I had done in the past, I decided to interact with this one first, so I drove to a rescue organization called “Molly’s Place,” with my mind set on adopting a kitten. When I arrived, I plopped down on a bench where the animals and the would-be adopters interacted. Immediately, a few cats and kittens weaved in and out of my legs, while a somewhat misshapen orange adult, with a hanging belly that almost scraped the ground, jumped up to sit beside me. I took notice that her ear, too, wasn’t normal due to being “tipped.” This is when animal rescue organizations swoop down on the streets to spay and neuter cats and subsequently remove the tip of their ears so that they don’t accidentally pick up the same one twice.
I reached over to pet the friendly girl who was perched beside me and she started to purr. Meanwhile, a few, intrepid kittens jumped up to get in on the petting action, but she was having none of it and let out a warning in the form of a hiss. She was determined to steal someone’s heart. I then asked the volunteer how long tip-ear had been there and learned she was one of their long-termers and had been in the rescue for a year. The young volunteer said, “Garfield is one of our favorites.” I suppose whomever named her thought she resembled the cartoon animal, although I can’t say I was enamored with the name.
After I was done visiting with “Garfield,” I walked out into another room to contemplate my decision and to see how “Garfield” acted with other people. A steady stream of visitors walked into the little room to interact with the felines and each time someone sat down on the bench, “Garfield” jumped up to get petted; this happened time and time again. She was a determined little girl, but each time, she was passed over for a pet that was younger, thinner and cuter.
As I reflected upon “Garfield’s” grit and persistence, my heart broke for her. It was then that I made the decision that she was coming home with me. I alerted a volunteer and began the paperwork at a counter in an area where the dogs were kept, when all of a sudden, I heard a commotion. It started with a few yips, then grew into a frenzied cacophony of barking dogs. I looked down to see what was causing the dogs to go crazy and there stood Garfield in the midst of the chaos. Petrified, I jumped back and before anyone could do anything, a volunteer swooped down and grabbed Garfield up by the scruff of her neck. She shrieked, before being safely placed back in the cat area. The volunteer looked white as a ghost and said to me in disbelief. “She’s never done that before.”
When I completed the paperwork, I returned to the retrieve the cat whom I would later name Frieda and gave her one last pet on the bench before volunteers took her to a back room for a nail trimming and flea treatment. When I picked her up in her carrier, she didn’t make a peep the entire way home.
I first placed her in the bedroom to get her used to her new surroundings before I introduced her to her brother Frankie, a three-year-old, petite feline that resembles her in color. She immediately jumped on the bed and sat beside me like she did on the bench at the shelter. That night, she slept on my chest. I’d occasionally wake up to feel her touching my face with her paws. She did this for about a month, as if she couldn’t believe that she finally had her human. I would wake up every day with what looked like pinpricks on my face for a while, and couldn’t help but laugh as I attempted to cover the claw marks with makeup.
After about a month, she quit laying on my chest and marking up my face. Now she climbs the stairs every night and lays beside me to get her share of petting and cuddles, before sneaking out when she thinks I am drifting off to sleep, contented with the knowledge that she has a furever home with her human.