Beansie Boo

I talk about my cat a lot.

So I thought you might like to meet her.

This is Rhiannon Colleen, better known to everyone as Bean, or Beansie Boo.

She's a bit of a moose -- she's 14 pounds of solid cat -- but when I got her, she was a teensy ball of fluff, as can be seen below:

She was also, as I've mentioned before, in dire straits; she weighed about a pound, she had a horrible lung infection, her eyes were infected, and she had ear mites. At all of four weeks old, she was struggling. The day I got her I immediately took her to the vet and begged them to see her. The lady at the front desk said, "Well, let's get a look at her," so I put the carrier on the counter. She took one look and said, "Let's take her back to exam room two ... uhhh, if you could not let her out of the carrier, that would be awesome."

That was not a good sign.

I went back to the exam room and didn't let her out of the carrier, but I opened the door and put my hand in. She crawled into my palm -- her whole body fit in there -- and began to purr.

Instant love.

I might have cried a little bit. "You need to be okay, little bug," I said.

The vet later told me that he didn't think she would make it, but he didn't want to tell me because I seemed attached to her. Well, duh.

It took an entire summer for her to get better. We made a lot of trips to the vet, and bought a lot of medicines that had to be administered with eyedroppers. However, the kitten who climbed into my hand on the first day I had her made one thing known -- she was here to stay, and I was her human. That was all.

She demonstrated this in several ways. I had shoulder surgery and spent that first summer in a sling. She would climb into it and go to sleep, purring loudly. She would curl up in my shoes. She would curl up on my pillow, beside my head. She would occasionally curl up on my neck, which was okay until she started to grow.

And GROW. 1 pound of kitty on a neck is MUCH more comfortable, by the way, than 14 pounds. In case you were wondering.

She became a GIANT. (Although, to this day, she seems to believe she is a tiny, delicate flower, and no amount of crashing into things or blundering about or falling off of things can convince her otherwise.)

She also retained her sweet nature, and she still thinks I belong to her. As a result, she looks out for me. When I was first separated from my ex-husband, she would sleep in my bed -- like always -- but if she had to get up in the night, she would bring me one of her toys. If I woke up and she was gone, pink mouse would be on the pillow. I'm not sure what thought process was involved in that (if any ... she's not the brightest daffodil in the flower bed, to be sure) but it was so adorable that I could hardly stand it.

I never meant to become one of those people -- you know, the kind who goes on and on about her pet until it becomes weird and kind of annoying. However, having her has brought me endless amounts of joy and laughter. She's one of the best things that has ever happened to me.

She just turned 9.

Happy Birthday, Beansie Boo.

And for you, Reader-person, I would say this: If you do not have a pet? MANY animals -- cats and dogs and gerbils and hamsters and birds and probably the occasional turtle or snake -- need homes. Rescue one. It will make your life better, I swear.