One day in November 2004, I went to GHS with a friend who was planning to adopt a dog. I ended up in the cat room while I was waiting and was fussing over a cute orange tabby when all of a sudden I felt someone tugging at my sleeve.
From the next cage over, a little dilute calico had grabbed my jacket and was staring at me with the most ferociously determined expression I’d ever seen on a cat. What else could I do? I filled out paperwork and two days later Tori (formerly Heather) was in my house and telling my first cat Max who the new queen in town was. (Max took all of 20 minutes to accept this.)
She’s been ruling the house for the last decade and a half, and has seen us through moves and weddings and round after round of foster cats and even the occasional rabbit. She’s far from maternal, but she takes her job of teaching kittens cat manners very seriously, and is ready to leap to their defense if she thinks another cat is getting too boisterous with the babies.