A Cozy Creative Life

Many years ago, my elementary school held a Pet Day. As I looked across the playground, I spotted an enormous ball of orange-and-white fur sitting in a little red wagon.

From a distance, I wasn’t entirely sure it was a cat.

I walked over to take a closer look. Cooper was a full-grown flame-point Ragdoll—and he was huge. I asked whether I could hold him because I had recently lost Jackson, although I still had Dresden, my blue-point Ragdoll, at home.

The moment I mentioned Dresden, my student and her mother knew that I already understood and loved the breed.

My student’s mother explained that their family was moving and would not be able to take Cooper with them. She asked whether I might consider giving him a home, since they knew how much I loved Ragdolls.

I picked Cooper up and held him against my chest. He settled into my arms as though he already knew I would be his new owner—no squirming and no trying to return to the wagon. He was so heavy that I could hold him for only a short time.

I’m fairly certain I said yes later that same day.

Before Cooper came home, his family gave me a towel carrying his scent, and I gave them one that smelled like Dresden. That way, the two cats could become familiar with each other before they ever met.

Cooper was going to join us after the students’ final day of school, during a teachers’ in-service day. I was nervous all day. All I could think about was bringing him home and introducing him to Dresden.

Cooper’s family brought him to school, and I was prepared with a very large cat carrier. They also sent along some of his favorite toys. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that he ate the same food as Dresden.

When we arrived home, I carried Cooper into the bathroom and let him out of the carrier. I intended to introduce the cats slowly, but I hadn’t closed the bathroom door tightly enough.

Dresden strolled in—as Dresden always did—saw Cooper and gave the faintest little hiss. It sounded more like a puff of air.

I laughed and said, “Dresden, this is your new brother, Cooper.”

That was the end of it. There were no more hisses, no growling and no swatting. Cooper came out of the bathroom, and the two cats got to know each other very quickly. They seemed to understand that this was how things were meant to be.

Cooper was a quiet, well-behaved cat. Despite his enormous size, he could jump onto the kitchen counter with surprising ease. Perhaps that was one reason I began calling him Super Duper Cooper.

He also had one very unusual way of relaxing. Whenever Cooper stretched out on the floor, his hind legs slid straight out to either side of his body. It never failed to make me smile.

Cooper and Dresden were good together. They played together, ate together and slept beside me—all the things Dresden had once done with Jackson.

Cooper did not replace Jackson—no cat ever replaces another—but he filled the empty place beside Dresden and became part of our little family in his own way.

From then on, he was Super Duper Cooper—enormous, gentle and perfectly at home with us.