![]() ![]() This wasn’t another shelter cat, my account observed. “She’s perfect to me,” I cooed in the baby’s face as she snoozed in my gentle embrace. She wasn’t cheap, as she was a show cat, but she wasn’t of a breeding quality (or price), her breeder said, because she had a small kink in the end of her tail. The first time I held her it was like trying to cradle a delicate cloud. The little Yeti dozed in a lushly padded cage waiting for judging results in a few categories, and we had to wait until the end of the show to take possession. The breeder could sense our interest we were helplessly transparent and agog. Oh, there were lots of cuties there, but my eyes locked and zoomed in on our little glamour girl from afar, and it was all over. But this time, we had a name and no kitty…yet. It was the same name as her favorite game – and since she came running when we said it, she basically got to choose her own name. Peekaboo came home nameless – well, with an awful shelter name that we immediately rejected – and we tried on a few dozen names with her until we found one she liked. So we showed up at the cat show, determined to find a kitten who fit the name. “From now on,” I said, “our generic term for all critters is ‘yeti’ – they’re all yetis!” The Mister agreed. In the context, the shroud of mystery matched that of the legends of the Yeti and Sasquatch. It turned out it was a carload of Weimaraners, their silvery coats looking rather specter-like in the shadows and moonlight. “It’s a whole car full of yetis!” I revealed, eyes adjusting to the gloom. My hubby stared, perplexed, as I quizzically added, “Is it…a yeti?” We both snickered. They weren’t human, and the light was very dim. At night a few weeks before, we pulled up in a parking space outside a store, and I strained to identify the species that was sitting perfectly still, times five, in the vehicle adjacent to us, each facing forward in the seat. ![]() ![]() We had it picked out long before we even arrived at the cat show or knew what breed we wanted. How we arrived at Yeti’s name was backward and strange. Boo gets freaked out by a lot of people Yeti is very Zen about it. Boo) is fantastically social on an individual scale, she doesn’t care for crowds. He was now a proud cat-papa, and eager for another, because the dynamics are so much fun when there are two fluffy little things to play together. I had already converted the hubby from a dog person to a cat person, knowing he only needed to experience the natural charm of a cat to fall in love. My husband and I were on the prowl for a kitten to amuse and be companion to our kitty of almost two years, Peekaboo, who got separation anxiety whenever we left the house. She was born into the glamorous life: we found her at a cat show she was only a couple months old, and she had just won seven ribbons. When I first laid eyes on Yeti I knew she was a born celebrity. ![]()
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