Meet the Residents: Wednesday The blog.

hoomane
Oct 11
3 min read

Meet the Residents: Wednesday

The blog.

October 2024: My phone goes off.

An employee of mine. Her sister found a kitten.

“Can you find it a home? Can you take it to the Humane Society? Can you… keep it?”

Off I go, like some cryptic prophecy being fulfilled, to Aylmer, Quebec.

Did I already decide she was mine before even meeting her?

Did I, on the way there, swing by PetSmart to buy Wednesday Addams-themed merch? a collar, toys & maybe a dash of gothic accessories? Because I already picked out her name?

Of course.

Meet Wednesday: my little storm cloud wrapped in fur.

I’ve loved Wednesday Addams since the black & white sitcom days. Watching black & white sitcoms in the 80s was something else. The original two-season wonder from the 1960s. I devoured every episode like candy-corn at Halloween.

The sitcom from the 90s slipped my mind until I stumbled across it on Tubi this week. I remember it so clearly but forgot it completely.

Christina Ricci in the ‘90s movies? Chef’s kiss. But this? This was fate handing me a living, breathing version of my favorite spooky character.

I pick her up.

She’s tiny. Terrified. Covered in fleas. A trembling haunted itty bitty kitty.

She spends her first night in my spare room. In the morning: vet visit. No microchip. Vet estimates 4 months old. Flea treatments begin. One bath. Another. She does not appreciate the spa experience.

But then… freedom.

A purple Nevermore Academy collar with a bell becomes her trademark because she is that small & that quiet. Like a phantom, but with a jingle.

Now, full disclosure: I had actually been debating getting a kitten before this chaos happened.

Kitten (the cat) is a speed demon, pure chaos incarnate. Milo, her partner in crime, had slowed down after his aural hematoma & heart murmur diagnosis. I was unclear if he would keep Kitten entertained like before.

Clearly, the universe laughed at me.

Because Wednesday? Oh, she keeps up.

She plays with Kitten like a storm hitting land. So fast. So rough. Like tiny claws wrapped in lightning. Milo tries to join in sometimes but quickly remembers his new semi-retirement status & goes back to being the Referee of Chaos.

And then there’s Rascal & Hunter. The oldest cats in the house at 17 & 18 respectively.

Wednesday is obsessed with them.

She follows them. Sleeps withthem. Rubs herself all over them. Watches them with wide, adoring eyes like they're some mysterious vampire kings & she’s the loyal goth groupie. They tolerate it with the slow, patient dignity of someone who’s seen too much & wants to nap about it.

Fast forward.

She’s over a year old now… & still ridiculously tiny.

I’m not sure if she’ll ever grow or if she’s destined to remain a permanently smol goblin cat.

She’s spayed, living indoors, thriving.

Grumpy yet cuddly. Snuggly yet suspicious.

She doesn’t think she wants love… until she gets it, purrs herself into a trance, & falls asleep like she was never feral a day in her life.

October 21 marks her one-year Gotcha Day.

She will celebrate in true Wednesday fashion:

Probably glaring at black balloons.

Judging us all.

Maybe purring if she feels like it.

She’s mine. My tiny haunted houseguest turned queen of the realm.