Nala

Nala and housemate Mooshie were surrendered to RAPS at the ages of 12 and 13 because their owners were moving. We feel for them, as we always do for senior cats who for whatever reason can't be kept by the people they've known all their lives.

Fortunately, now that Mooshie and Nala have adjusted to RAPS being their permanent home, they seem overall pretty cool with it.

While Mooshie seemed to have perfected the art of photobombing (as Martha can attest), Nala's style, in the evenings anyway, is to enjoy her comfy chair and let the cuddles come to her. She knows they will.

Updated September 9, 2012: When I posted about Nala last month, little did I suspect that would be one of my last opportunities to see her. Rest in peace, sweet girl.

Mooshie

I was bullied into writing this blog post.

Normally I go to the Sanctuary, I pick a cat that has intrigued me in some way, take some pictures and I write a story.  A few Wednesdays ago, I was under the illusion that I was still in control of my pen and camera but instead I was educated otherwise. Mooshie had other plans for me and the Neko Files.

From the minute I stepped into the leukemia room in the single wide, Mooshie decided that she was not to be cast aside.  While I took random pictures of some of the leukemia cats, Mooshie did her best to sabotage my efforts. The pictures I took were ruined by a blur of gray fur whizzing past, a tail from out of nowhere or a picture of the floor as my camera arm was “accidentally” nudged by a passing Mooshie.

Finally I decided that like most things in life, it’s usually just easier to go with the flow. Mooshie you win.

Mooshie, a recent inductee into the leukemia room came over with her mate Naalah from the Moore house.  You can recognize Mooshie in an instant with her little white milk moustache and her sizable mass.  She’s not fat, but she’s a big girl.

Now the focus of my attention, Mooshie played it up.  Captivated by my shoe, she rolled around on top of it. Revelling in stinky shoe smell, she rubbed her face all over it.  After finishing with my shoe, she jumped on my lap though not really interested in a cuddle, it was more of an insistence that I continue to focus and stop petting all those other darn cats. If Mooshie had hands, I’m sure she would have grabbed my cheeks and told me to “pay attention!”

Finally, Mooshie wandered off to a nearby food bowl.  She plunked herself down almost on top of her bowl and I could swear I heard a sign of resignation and the disgruntled murmur: “this chick is soooo not getting it”.  Then finally I got it. Mooshie was not looking for fame, fortune or at the very least my undivided attention... she was looking for dinner!

So I learned a very important journalistic lesson that Wednesday night at the sanctuary.  If you’re looking for a good story on a cat, it’s best to wait till after dinner has been served.