fostering: Celia

Today I picked up a foster cat. Her name is Celia; I guess the shelter gave hre that, since she came in as a stray. That was during the Republican National Convention, and the people at the shelter suggested she would love to spend some time someplace larger and more peaceful.

jinian came to help and advise, first on my cat-supplies shopping trip (also she floated me a loan when I found I'd lost my ATM card), and then to the shelter. They suggested Celia as a good cat for a n00b, and we found her cage after a little running back and forth to confirm, since her name-and-info card was not to be found. We carried the poor girl through the corridor of yelping dogs to the front desk, and they found that she hadn't yet been microchipped, tested for FeLV, or examined for a spaying scar -- so I should come back at 4:30 when they could do these, and until then back through the corridor of yelping she went. We went to my apartment and made ready the cat supplies, until jinian had to go elsewhere.

I went back for Celia. She has indeed been spayed, is now chipped, and has had blood drawn. She zoomed right out of the carrier (and desired to get out of the cat holding rooms, too, to explore for dark places). She quickly dicovered the cat-passage behind the books on the bookshelves. I removed the scratching pad because 1) she clearly likes catnip and I'm not sure she needs to be a crazy drugged kitty just yet, and 2) it induced a frenzy of scratching at the carpet next to the scratching pad. Hm.

She is calling out. I'll go check if she's eager for company, but possibly she's just going to be waily for a bit.

( What did she do next? What did I do? Find out, only by clicking here. )