I adopted a cat. Meet Lily.
She was a TNR cat who’s been living in the neighborhood for about four years. I started feeding her a few weeks ago to try to get her used to me, and she started coming up on my porch and leaning on my door. We made eye contact and meowed back and forth, so it was obvious that she was socialized, not feral.
My neighbor helped me catch her. She’s still adapting to this weird living inside thing. (Lily, not my neighbor.)
She has a vet appointment in a few days to get a check up, shots, and anything else she needs. Once she’s officially parasite-free and her nails have been trimmed, I’ll start slowly introducing her to Fiona, my bunny. Right now a baby gate is keeping her from entering the living room, so she only has access to the upstairs and the stairwell. She’s been spending most of her time in the coat closet and in my studio under my workbench.
If I pet her, she purrs loudly, but she insists on staying back where I have to nearly dislocate a shoulder to reach her, so I can’t pet her much. I think eventually she’ll be snuggly, but I have to give her time. I can do that.