Introducing Sylvia, was Ewok, Badass Morose Cat

Side note: I Googled "boss synonym" to come up with an adjective for Sylvia's title, a la Zeus the Totally Boss Rat, and this website suggested I use bang-up or whiz-bang. That, my friends, is boss.

Once upon a time, a friend of mine had a cat who had many kittens. I was perusing pictures on Facebook, when I saw this.

I am the saddest of pandas kittens.

If you know me, you know what happened next. Instalove.

Then I moved. Then I quit my job without giving notice. Then I got two new jobs and started working nearly 60 hours a week and never sleeping. Then I started driving to Provo most days. Then, when the cat was about five months old, I finally took her home. That day was yesterday.

The cat was called Ewok at her home-until-yesterday. Because of the peculiar way her markings make her look so morose, Kelsae suggested I name her Sylvia, after Sylvia Plath the poet. It just stuck. I may or may not have put Andrea Gibson's newest collection on my iPod for the drive home from Provo, Sylvia in tow, so we could listen to some angsty poetry together. Sylvia was busy yowling, protesting being in her carrier, and she didn't hear any of it. That's a shame though, because there were some doosies that she could have written in her diary later, such as:

A doctor once told me I feel too much

I said so does God

That's why you can see the Grand Canyon from the moon.

-Andrea Gibson, "Jellyfish"

I've made Sylvia spend her first 24 hours and change living in my bathroom, just until I'm sure she's settled. This is a new cat mamma's way of saying, "Just until I'm sure she won't pee under my bed." She retaliated by meowing loudly on and off all night long. One could call it cat-yelling. I went into the bathroom at 3 AM and told her to write a terrible adolescent poem instead of making all this noise. She probably did compose that poem, but she did it out loud, at the top of her voice, because teenagers are like that.

Today we had supervised exploring time of most of the apartment, but Sylvia spend almost all of it on my lap or in the smallest spaces possible. She made up for all of that meowing with a lot of blissful cuddling and purring. I may have told her at one point to act like a cat and put on some airs already and get some emotional independence. All mammas make mistakes.

There are no current pictures yet, but there will be. For now, just know that Sylvia is a wonderful cat with a loud voice whose favorite hobbies include somehow opening drawers that block mamma getting into the bathroom and not using any of the fancy stuff mamma bought us. We prefer to just sleep behind the toilet.