Conan was four months old when he picked his new mother, Sheila, out of a room of eight adopters. He made a wise choice. This devoted little red Persian adored his ‘chosen’ family for the next 11 years.
“I was grieving from losing three family members and needed an emotional support cat to heal my heart’s void, ” said Sheila. “A breeder showed me three kittens and Conan (named after Conan O’Brian’s red hair) kept running over to me in a room of potential parents. I was his ‘chosen one’ and he knew that we were meant to be together. On the ride home, he shunned his carrier purr-furring to look out the windows and always loved future car rides.
When I was having bad days, Conan ‘knew’ that I needed him. Once when I fell, he ran to my aid and began licking me trying to get me back on my feet. My little ‘love bug’ often slept by my arm wrapping his front paws around it. We both loved this paws-ition.
He would hiss-terically zoom around the house, then jump into my lap and lie there innocently like he’d been there for hours. While he groomed himself, he insisted on licking my hand. He was also possessive. Once when my husband leaned over to kiss me, Conan stood up off my lap and with his fat-furry paw hit my husband's arm with the expression, ‘No! This is my lady. You can't do that.’
When I slept on my stomach, this funny-furball jumped on my back and contentedly kneaded my butt before curling up and falling asleep. His kneading destroyed our electric blanket!
Conan’s sport was chasing feather wands, eventually grabbing it and carting it off like a trophy. He also loved a hoody draw string. He’d play as long as you wiggled it. He looked adorable chasing falling snow and birds through windows. He absolutely hated having his picture taken and oddly, he did NOT like catnip! He followed me into the bathroom and lay on the bathmat while I showered. He couldn’t let me out of his sight! I felt the same about him.
When Conan first arrived, I was the 'trip driver' for our community's sports and field trips, and was often gone for hours or days. I missed Conan tremendously, so one day, I found a stuffed cat resembling him.
The stuffy named ‘Therapy’ accompanied me on trips on the bus’s dashboard. The toy gave me comfort while I was away from Conan. On my return, the real Conan would be ticked off at me for being gone so long. It took him an hour ‘to allow me’ to make it up to him. I loved this cat more than anything and after his untimely passing, 'Therapy’ gave me comfort.”
