Last night, Emerald's adopter came to sign the papers and pick her up. After a bit of protest, Emerald was lowered hind-end first into the cat carrier and shut behind the door, looking out apprehensively. She went out the door to her new life and her new home, and that was that.

I wasn't sure how I would feel. It's a bittersweet experience. On one hand, I've fulfilled my purpose: to care for her and prepare her for a permanent home. I know the woman who chose her will love her dearly and care for her well. I'm happy for that.

But the house seems empty now, and a little bit sad. I keep thinking about Emerald and remembering with a little shock that she's not here anymore. I keep expecting to be assaulted by her many meows and her pleading eyes, her padding paws following me everywhere I go and her prickling claws digging into my leg if I delay picking her up. I miss the soft furry warmth of her little body and the rapturous purring as I pick her up and settle her on my lap. I miss being met at the door, and I even rather miss the mess she made kicking litter out of her box every day.

Hopefully the new foster cat will arrive soon to fill that empty space. I wonder if it will get easier or harder with consecutive cats. We'll see. I guess if it gets too hard, I can always adopt my own.

Last week, I traveled to the States for my younger sister's wedding. The few days beforehand were a blur of wedding preparation and seeking to calm a nerve-rattled sister. Right up until the moment of truth, she seemed a little panicked. But when she walked down the aisle on our father's arm, she was absolutely beautiful. She and her groom beamed at each other, never losing one another's eyes.

I wasn't sure how I'd feel; I thought maybe I'd cry. But in reality, I couldn't stop smiling. They'd made it through five years and a lot of difficulty to this day, and it was clear they were deeply in love.

It was amazing to see the little sister I once viewed as nothing more than a nuisance, grown into a beautiful, poised, confident, intelligent and funny human being who is one of my best friends on earth. In a strange sort of a way, her getting married makes her seem somehow—not older than me per se, but simply entered into a very grown-up realm of life I have not experienced yet. I'm extremely happy for her and her husband.

In other changes, my first foster kitty, Emerald, has found a permanent home. Her adopter will be coming to pick her up in two days. Again, I'm not entirely certain how I'll feel. I'll miss her, I know. I've grown surprisingly attached to the furry, vocal little bundle of demanding love. I'm happy for her to find a good home, and already looking forward to my next foster cat, Camille. Apparently, Camille is an energetic handful who "needs to learn that play biting is not appropriate." Should be interesting...

Emerald the Terrible seems to be settling in. And Terrible, really, she isn't. In fact, she's turning out to be one of the sweetest little bits of felinity I've ever seen.

Her hissing episodes are few and far between, and getting rarer the longer she's here. Mostly, she "talks" to us all day long in widely-varied, squeaky meows and trills. She follows me around unceasingly, and begs to be allowed to sleep on my lap. Yesterday she even started running and chasing her toy.

She's not a jumper, and rarely gets caught on the table or countertops. She doesn't make much effort to go outside, or other places she shouldn't. She doesn't beg or steal food. She's not the sharpest pencil in the box, but she's the sweetest.

However, Emerald has a Talent that, while admirable, could not exactly be described as social. Emerald is a yowler by night.

Emerald's yowls are long. Emerald's yowls are melodic. Emerald's yowls are heart-wrenching and pathetic. Emerald's yowls are unceasing. They sound like a doomed soul futilely bemoaning his life of sin. When they occur almost anywhere in the house, but most particularly when they occur right outside your door, they jerk you out of sleep and shatter any remaining somnolence into a million little irrecoverable pieces.

If Emerald's yowls could be translated, they would say, "BA-ROOOOOOOOOOO, I haven't seen a HUMAN in A WHOLE FOUR HOURS! I'm sure they've abandoned me! They don't love me anymore! Human! HUMAN!! MUST. HAVE. HUMAN!!!"

As soon as she sees a human, these yowls immediately disperse into relieved, happy trilling.

One morning, Emerald sat outside my housemate's room and yowled for a solid hour. My housemates don't particularly need to be subject to that, especially the ones who get up in the morning for real jobs.

So I decided she'd have to spend her nights in the bathroom. It's heartbreaking, because she really doesn't like it, and there's a bit of disgruntled protest when bedtime comes and she gets carted off to her little dungeon.

However, it saves our sleep and our sanity, and despite her not enjoying it, it does have all the comforts of home: her bed, her food and water, and her potty. She survives quite well until the morning, when she is gratefully let out to resume her endless pursuit of cuddles.

In short, she's a delight, and I'd adopt her myself in a second if I could. She may be a nuisance, but she's a darn lovable one.

This is how days go now that Emerald rules the roost:

Me: sitting at desk working, or pretending to

Emerald (realizing she hasn't had human contact in a WHOLE FIVE MINUTES): "Mrrowrr! Meow! Maaah! Mrrrr!" (pacing around chair and looking up with pleading eyes)

Me: "C'mon Emerald! C'mon!" (patting lap)

Emerald: "Mrrarr! Mraah!" (putting up paws, clawing at my leg and back)

Me: "Jump, Emerald!"

Emerald: eventually, jumps onto back of chair. Or continues pacing around begging. Occasionally, she actually jumps into my lap.

Me: Picks her up if she hasn't jumped, settles her down if she has.

Me: petting

Emerald: blissful purring

Eventually, she settles in completely, draping her head over my arm, burying her face in my elbow, or hooking a paw over my wrist. I end up with one arm immobilized, typing with my left hand. Or futilely trying to manipulate the mouse with my right. More purring. Occasional hand-licking.

Eventually, I have to get up. So I disturb Her Royal Emeraldness. This displeases her greatly. Yesterday, we had a mild bite and some hissing. Today, we had some more hissing. I hiss back, gently tap her nose, and dump her on the floor. She stalks off, greatly miffed, into the other room.

Five minutes later, the whole cycle repeats itself.

Thankfully, so far we've had only one "hissy fit" per day. The rest of the day she's fine, apart from some complainy muttering when I get up. I think she's learning. Perhaps?

Whatever, having a lap-kitty to snuggle with makes work an infinite degree of purriness better.

After optimistically writing that post yesterday, I was treated to a display of Emerald's "bad" behaviour. It first occurred when I picked her up and took her downstairs, where she thought that she shouldn't be. So she hissed. I hissed back. She whipped her head around so fast that I think I'd have gotten a bite in the face if she'd been able to reach. I then tapped her gently on the nose, from which she recoiled and which stopped the hissing.

The next occurrence happened, again, when I picked her up. She hissed. I hissed back, and again did the light nose-tap. This time, there was no biting attempt.

That was the end of that for the day. A couple of times things happened that I think would normally have set off hissing, but she thought twice and didn't.

Today, she was lying on my lap, all blissed out, stretched over my arm and preventing me from typing. I decided to get up, and disturbed her, which provoked a gentle bite and a hiss. Repeat hiss back, repeat nose tap. That seemed to deal with it. No more episodes today, so far.

So far I think it's Me 3, Aggressive Kitty 0. The problem is that in her previous foster home, the humans were afraid of her, didn't know how to deal with her aggression, and basically let her do whatever she wanted. She has to re-learn here that the Humans are the Boss Cats, and she is the Much-Loved but Subordinate Cat.

Apart from the infrequent hissy fits, though, she is absolutely lovely. She is very vocal, gives little trilling meows, wants to be in proximity to a human 24-7, loves lap cuddles, purrs a lot, and is the sweetest little bundle of confection wrapped in a small black kitty-skin you'll ever see. I said it before, and I'll say it again, some lucky human is going to get a very special cat.

This is Emerald. Isn't she cute?

She arrived last night, along with her old foster mum, a small bag of cat food, and part of a bag of litter. She was in a cat carrier, and she wasn't happy about it, as evidenced by pathetic mewing and one small black paw pushed futilely against the door grate.

However, she cheered up as soon as she was let out into the relative freedom of my downstairs bathroom, where she had food and water, a litterbox, a scratching post, and a little bed I made her out of a folded-up blanket. After she'd finished exploring the limited space, she curled up into cat-loaf position on the bed and stayed there for the whole of the evening, until I went to bed. (That's where the above photo was snapped. She was falling asleep when I took it).

Having heard about her slightly obnoxious behaviour from the former foster home, I braced myself for crying and scratching during the night. Not a peep. I slept soundly and the first noise I heard out of her in the morning was scratching in her litterbox, until I made a phone call from my bedroom and she heard my voice, upon which she let out a plaintive meow.

Released this morning, she walked cautiously but inquisitively out of the bathroom. It took a great deal of coaxing from the top of the stairs to get her to come up, but she finally ran up the stairs and set about exploring the rest of the house. She now seems fairly at ease and is hovering within a small radius of me, meowing frequently when she feels she's being ignored. Quite endearingly, she paws my leg plaintively to request a pickup. Right now, she's "helping" me type this and licking my hands as I do.

She's extremely friendly and cuddly; loves to be held; sits on my lap; purrs; and talks a lot. So far she's adorable and I haven't seen any evidence of bad behaviour, apart from a hiss when I walked too closely behind her up the stairs, which is fairly normal. I'm anticipating that soon, a very lucky home will get a very special kitty.

Today I got lots of kitty supplies, for free. I walked deep downtown to a building where a couple who foster for the Annex Cat Rescue live, and was met in the lobby by the husband, a pleasant guy called Joel. He took me down to their basement locker, which to my delight was chock-full of all sorts of kitty supplies, mine for the taking.

I walked away with a litterbox, litter scoop, scratching post, food and water dishes (cleverly built into a plastic mat to catch any mess), and cool soft-shell carrying bag for when (if) I have to take her to the vet.

Score!

There are still a few things I have to buy, but those are the main ones and a big financial help.

Afterward I went down to the Eaton Centre to check on a pair of boots I'd tried on a couple of weeks ago. They're now on sale at 50% off, so I figured I'd better grab them before they go. I was waited on by an exceedingly bored gay Asian guy with an affected demeanour that projected, "I don't want to have to talk to you any more than necessary."

While he was ringing up my sale, I suddenly remembered the exceedingly unfriendly and uncommunicative gay Asian guy who'd waited on me in that same store two years ago when I bought my previous pair of winter boots. In a moment of epiphany, I wondered if it was the same guy. And realized it probably was. Life's funny that way.

A few weeks ago, I went to the Toronto Humane Society with the intention of getting a cat. I checked them all out, wrote down the numbers of the ones I liked, and returned home intending to go back and choose one.

However, I started to think about the realities of cat ownership, and it tempered my excitement somewhat. Owning a pet is a big commitment. You are pledging to take care of this animal for the rest of its life, including any medical bills it might incur.

I'm realized I'm just not up for that. For one thing, my life is still unsettled enough that I'm not comfortable taking on the life-long care of a furry dependent. For another, my income is not steady or large enough to make me optimistic about paying vet bills.

So I decided I would volunteer at the Humane Society instead. Then I happened to see a flier for the Annex Cat Rescue, another organization in Toronto that cares for homeless kitties.

Somewhere, my desire to own a cat morphed into a desire to foster one. Fostering works like this: you keep the cat and care for it until someone adopts it. The organization pays medical bills and you cover food and litter. Potential adoptees, after being screened by the organization, visit the cat, and you assess them. You have final say about who the cat goes to.

This seemed like a much better deal to me.

So after sending some email messages and leaving some voicemails, I got a call from a very pleasant lady named Sharon, the foster coordinator for ACR. We had a lovely chat in which she told me all about my potential foster, an "alpha female" named Emerald with "dominance issues". Apparently this means that she hisses and taps you with her paw when you do something she doesn't like. I confess I laughed. I said I thought I could handle this.

Sharon directed me to the online application form. After I'd completed it, she informed me that a "home inspector" would be dropping by to assess the house. She also said that I could visit Emerald at the vet where she is currently boarding, so last night, I did.

Emerald turned out to be a small, longish-haired black cat, who crouched in the back of her cage uncertainly till the vet tech opened the door and I extended my hand to her. She crept forward slowly, sniffed it, I started stroking her, and we were in business. She seemed to enjoy the attention, and eventually began purring.

We were doing fine until I pulled her out and set her on my lap. At that point, loud and continuous muttering and hissing ensued, which increased in volume and intensity as she realized she wasn't being put down. I think part of the problem was that from this vantage point, she could see her next-door neighbour, a handsome white cat, with whom she seemed to have a problem. I held her for a bit while the complaining went on, then finally gently set her back into the cage. The vocalizing didn't stop. She had an awful lot to say, all of it negative. I don't really blame her in that situation.

But I loved her anyway. And today, I had the home inspection visit from a very nice girl called Michelle. She said her report would be positive, so, barring any complications, by the end of this week I may have my kitty!

Well, not my kitty. I need to keep in mind that she's only in my care until she gets adopted. Which hopefully, for her sake, will be soon. However, it will be awfully nice to have a cat around for the first time in years.