How I went to the bookstore and came home with two cats

Plus: a can’t-miss movie for your Fool for the Cities Friday

Hi everyone,

It’s spring, so I’m wearing open-toed shoes—the most adorable pair of new clog sandals from Old Navy!

In related news, as I was entering the parking lot at work this morning, I tottered and tipped over and splatted so effing hard on the concrete that my right elbow is still lightly bleeding, and I might have very slightly sprained a wrist.

Anyway, how are you?

Since I last checked in with you all, a few important things have happened.

Most importantly, there has been….are you ready for it?…the cementing of my status as an official

crazy

childless

cat woman!

mwaha ha ha aha

And I didn’t even do it to make any misogynistic politicians squirm!

But there IS a bit of a story behind why, and how, I decided to adopt in the way I did, let alone end up with plural pets.

Allow me to explain, and in the meantime fill you in about something cool about the Quad Cities.

How I went to the bookstore and came home with two cats

A couple of Saturdays ago, I went to a new(ish) place in Davenport that I’d been meaning to check out. I’d seen a place called Books & Meows on Facebook several months ago. Plus, I’d been thinking about how I need to try again¹ with having a cat, and I’ve been following local animal shelters’ accounts and thinking, “okay, maybe it’s time”… for at least two years.

I’ve been hesitating because…do I need more clutter and more things that cost money? And what if I finalize the adoption only to get it home and find out it’s evil? (See footnote.)

I finally decided to officially check out Books & Meows, which requires you to book an admission ticket for a specific time. This way, you get personal time and space with the cats who currently dwell there.

I’ll just get a little pet therapy, I thought as I booked my slot.

On the morning of my appointment, I wondered if I might be able to get a cup of coffee there, but noted that the place does not advertise itself as a cat cafe. (So you can thank me now for pointing out there’s a Starbucks and a Qwik Star just down the way, and obviously you’ll stop at the Q. And as far as book selection, I would discover that it’s more akin to “Goodwill browsing inventory” than, say, a place where you can go in with a specific title on your wishlist. But you’re not going there for the books, you’re going for the biscuit-making—don’t lie.)

When I followed Google Maps to the address—which I still do everywhere I go, even though I’ve lived in the QC for, what, just a decade and a half now?—I was a bit concerned I’d gotten off track somehow when I pulled up to one of those little business parks that might house a dentist’s office. (Actually, it’s in the same complex as a law firm.) But the cheery rug —and the sign above the door, once I spotted it— let me know I was in the right place.

yes my lens is blurry, no you don’t need cheaters

When I arrived, I took in the setup: a main entrance area, then three or four separate rooms in which cats are free to roam. Food bowls, scratchers, toys, and hidey-holes are placed throughout, and ticket-holders can watch the cats in action and interact with them to get a sense of each one’s personality. You can dive right in that way, or first check out the wall of fame where you can read a brief posting about each cat including name, age, date of drop-off at shelter, and other background info if known.

Why am I saying “shelter,” when clearly a bookstore is no such thing, you ask?

Well, it turns out that each cat there is fully vetted (and vet -ed, meaning spaid, microchipped, etc), by—and adoptable from—the Scott County Humane Society.

I learned this fairly immediately upon arrival, because I had almost immediately decided that if I was ever going to adopt, I’d found an ideal setup:

• I could get a sense of a few important indicators of their energy level (meaning “is this one going to scratch the shit out of me and draw blood on a regular basis?”)

• Plus, I could chill with them, all without hearing dogs barking in a potentially overcrowded shelter.

Owner Nicole Puryear was kind and patient with all of my questions—which, duh, as you’d expect from someone who created a place for shelter cats to help them get adopted!

Each time a kitty zipped across my feet, or pranced over toward a food bowl, or zipped across the room in one of those self-created chases with a toy, I’d ask her, “Which one was that, again? Is that Elvie? Wait, is that Out of the Woods?” etc. (Don’t judge anyone in charge of naming, btw. I’m assuming that shelter workers have to come up with new ones multiple times a day? More on that later.)

This one was the aforementioned “zipper.” I didn’t adopt him, but:

Tell me this is not the cutest ready-for-its-closeup cat you’ve ever seen. Slay!

courtesy of Books & Meows on Facebook

Once it began to hit me that I could do an adoption that day, I decided I’d stealthily see which cat(s) seemed to be acting the most chill, and indicated openness to snuggling.

After hanging out on a chaise lounge for a while, I noted that an older, white-and- multicolor guy named Patriot seemed to fit that bill, purring loudly whenever he was petted by me and other visitors. Okay, this is looking promising, I thought.

Patriot, chillin’ on the chaise

I started asking Nicole more about how the adoption process worked. She offered to give the shelter a heads up that I was coming and which one I was interested in, and all I’d have to do would be to drive over there and complete an application.

Everything seemed straightforward, except for one problem:

Now that I’d decided on peaceful Patriot, I was also starting to fall in love with Hurts, a six-month-old kitten who kept winding its way around my leg, and who let me pick him up without getting pissy, and who just seemed to have an all-around sweet nature.

Now what was I going to do? I’ll let the price be the deciding factor, I told myself.

I drove over to the Scott Co. Humane Society, where I completed an application straight from my phone, and was approved within minutes.

I knew I was going to love Patriot—who I’d be rechristening with something clever that I came up with myself—but I also knew I might be sad about saying goodbye to that kitten.

So I took a deep breath and asked about adoption fees. And I learned that while the kitten was full-price, adult cats at the moment were name-your-price.

Which I took to be a sign from the universe that both of these babies needed to come home with me.

So in less than an hour, I was back at Books & Meows, two shelter-provided cardboard carriers in hand. I’m doing this! I thought. (And: oh crap I need a trip to PetSmart!)

I had to steal Patriot away from the sweet little girl and her mom who’d been petting him while he purred so loudly as to almost sound like he was snoring.

Then I agreed to pose for this super flattering, not-in-the slightest bit awkward pic as I tried to hold/show off both of them at once.

I made this tiny for a reason

I still can’t believe I did it on a semi-whim, let alone got two of them.

Now, these two adoptees are destroying my apartment, whining constantly, and exploring every nook and cranny around the apartment at night when I’m trying to sleep—and I’m talking baby-talk nonstop: “Do you wuv your kitty mama? Aww I wuv you, I do, I do!”

(If you, too, “just need some pet therapy,” here’s their website).

Now, help me name them. What should I call my cats?

In the past I’ve drawn from some of my favorite things in life: I once had an SNL-inspired Sally O’Malley, and then, a Rigby, as in… Eleanor/The Beatles. (She’s the one I now refer to as Cujo.)

My sister suggested some literary figures, but one of my best friends already has a Gatsby.

So here’s a poll where you can put in your two cents:

when I bought this shirt last fall, I was premature!

Notes about each choice:

a) Bernie & Butti - because of what each of these leaders stand for, and their integrity. (But do I need a constant reminder of how far we are from ….having them.)

b) Sam & Clem - because I cannot, will not call a cat “Mark.” (But …the sound of yelling “Get off the counter, CLEM!” Hmm. 🤔.)

c) Baby Kitty & Booper/Boop-Boop - because this is the affectionate drivel that’s been coming out of my mouth since I brought them home.

Thanks for submitting your vote!

(ed. note: sometimes “Generate AI image” is a reason to live!

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And now, in addition to being a Fool for the Cities because we have a place like Books & Meows, I have something else to encourage you to explore in Davenport—but for this one, I urge you to do so before a specific deadline.

Please row, row, row your ass to this movie before it leaves Davenport!

I’m talking about a moving, funny, and at times shocking tale of two young cousins who paddle—and portage, in a method that will ensure you never hear the word again without immediately thinking chiropractor—across the American West.

The Last Picture House in downtown Davenport—which yes, I’m obsessed with, if you’ve been following—is offering screenings of the straightforwardly titled documentary Columbia River Canoe Project each Wednesday for the next few weeks.

I went with a friend last week and we both enjoyed it so much, we’ve already got tickets to return and watch it again when one of the two main “characters,” journey instigator Robert Lester, will be in attendance. It’s that inspiring. (But yes it’s also only 70 minutes, in case you’re wondering.)

My friend rightfully compared this inspiring young man to Quad Cities rockstar / CNN Hero Chad Pregracke.

Take my word for it and get to this film before April 16th.

You will appreciate:

• amazing cinematography,

• gorgeous views of Montana, Idaho, and Oregon, from vantage points I can almost guarantee you’ve never seen before, and

• the inclusion of indigenous names for sites across their journey, and what those names translate to - so cool!).

But I won’t spoil anything, especially the cool local tie-in to the movie—hint, it’s about one of the non-human “characters”—because hopefully you’ll learn about that in the welcome from one of the event organizers just before the movie starts, as we did when we attended.

But here are more details for showtimes, etc. from the LPH—which, no, is not paying me commission, I swear! (I wouldn’t reject, it though, just saying.)

Thank you for reading!

I’ll let you know about the poll results in my next post.

—Alison

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1. Be sure to read How the Cat That Was Supposed to be My Therapy Animal Ended Up…Putting me in Therapy—once I write and self-publish it!