I was reverse-catfished. Having been presented with a photo of a hefty, surly looking feline from the alleys of Astoria, I accepted the foster mom’s invitation to meet in real life with apprehension. My drive to be polite outweighed my better instincts.
I arrived, still skeptical, and received a disclaimer: The kitten I was about to see was quiet, subdued, and didn’t like to be held—PC ways to say she was feral. Her ear was already tipped, as if they had packed her suitcase and set it by the door, ready for departure from her brief visit to Domesticity.
Turns out, you shouldn’t judge a cat by its internet adoption profile. I was greeted by a small tuft of fur the color of a storm cloud. She peered at me with moon-like eyes, sage green and clever. Not being a cat person, I picked her up timidly. Each time I set her down, she’d crawl right back into my lap. When she fell asleep on my chest, she effectively attached herself to my heart. Suddenly, I was a cat mom.
Upon accession to the throne, monarchs will often take a new name, and so began the reign of Bea. Four and half years after she chose me, Bea (or, to her chagrin, Baby Bea, Honey Bea or BooBoo Bunny) is the queen of a once lonely apartment and is one of the greatest joys in my life. Her favorite pastime is sunbathing on my deck, an activity increasingly more desirable in direct proportion to how painfully early in the morning she can convince me to let her outside.
Neither of us is overly affectionate, but Bea knows when I need her. She has been an incredible companion and helped me through my mother’s passing. Sometimes she’ll put her paw on my leg just to let me know she’s there. When I worked from home last year, she felt really put out at first—I was invading her space; but once she acclimated to the new routine, she began to (dare I say) enjoy having me at home. She would position herself in the apartment so she could always see me. She still does, and nothing else in the world could be so simultaneously creepy and heartwarming. Now, she sees me off in the morning and is waiting by the door when I get home.
Queen Bea is a funny, sassy little creature who charms everyone around her with her misanthropic congeniality. She still plays the wild card from time to time, pretending she’s aloof and disinterested in humans; but more often, she acknowledges people for their true purpose—to serve and spoil her. I’m grateful every day for the glares she bestows upon me.
Quenna is a fashion, beauty and lifestyle publicist and recent VP at LJ Public Relations. Her alter ego is a florist named Marifleur. When she’s not playing with flowers or working on her day job, she can be found reading and having a cup of mint tea. https://www.instagram.com/quennasanchez/