In November, when I received an e-mail about a Ragdoll in need at a Texas kill-shelter, I never knew that he would wind up staying with me. He was left at the shelter because his owners “didn’t have time for him,” one of the lamest excuses I have ever heard for dumping a cat a shelter, especially for such an awesome cat. As soon as arrangements were made for transport to Waco, I jumped in my car and made a mad dash to get him and another Ragdoll that had been turned in to the same shelter. As soon as his white paw shot out of the carrier door, I knew I was lost, and we spent the next 1 ½ hours of travel time getting to know each other. Convincing my family was not easy, but he quickly won over everyone except my 15-year old DSH cat, Nimue, who is still annoyed at having a new member of the family. Since she really doesn’t care for any other cat in the house, this is not a new situation.
For the next week, we played with different names. From Keegan to Tristan, none of the names seemed just right. After a new name each day for nearly a week, I finally settled on Roanoke (Ro-an for short). I have always been interested in the lost colony, and Roanoke was definitely “lost” when I found him. Roanoke is a 1 year old Chocolate Mitted purebred Ragdoll. His papers were even left at the shelter with him.
This precious boy loves to cuddle and play with a feather wand. He is extremely food-motivated and has a bad habit of trying to steal my food; he especially goes after chicken and potato chips. He also loves Cheez-its. He is one of the most mellow cats that I have ever met, and to me he is the epitome of the best of the Ragdoll breed.
He is floppy, he is affectionate without being needy, he loves to play but is not hyper, and he loves to cuddle in the bed and in front of the fireplace. Roanoke is really small for a Ragdoll, right at 10 pounds, and I am hoping he grows a bit over the next couple of years. It is funny because my 2 ½ year old Maine Coon, Gryffin, would love to play with him, but Roanoke is afraid of Gryffin because Gryffin is already an 18-pound, monster of a cat. I am hoping that eventually Roanoke will realize that Gryffin just wants to play. For now, Roanoke sticks pretty close to his new mom.
As a rescuer, I am often appalled at the cats people dump at shelters. Actually, I am appalled at any cat being left in a shelter, but people often believe that only cats with issues are left at shelters, that Ragdolls are never found at shelters, and that somehow the cat is at fault for being in the shelter. Roanoke proves these beliefs are completely erroneous; I am just lucky I found him in time. Welcome to the family, son!