Eloise and I are a one-cat, one-person household. She has no rivals, which clearly makes her happy (Michelle, the person at the shelter who drew my attention to her, mentioned that she was sometimes feisty with other cats). I am semi-retired, so she gets a lot of attention. In her new home, Eloise quickly revealed her affectionate and self-confident personality: on her second night here, she joined me on the bed, and now she regularly spends at least part of the night there with me. I had thought about changing her name, but in the end, I didn’t. The name Eloise automatically suggested the children’s book heroine to me, and the more I got to know Eloise the cat, the more I recognized her affinity with her high-spirited literary namesake. Perhaps my Eloise thinks of me as her nanny? She certainly feels that my ability to throw toy mice, not to mention opening cans of cat food, should be there for her on demand. Eloise had gained a bit more weight then she should have while she was at Animal Haven (she really likes dry food), so I’ve been giving her mostly wet food. If she gets fussy about that, sometimes I mix some dry food with it. Looking at her from above when she’s standing, I think she’s currently at an appropriate weight. Looking at her when she’s sprawling on her back and showing her tummy–well, she’s a large cat, and her style of beauty is 19th century, not 21st (think of those zaftig Victorian ladies one sees in portraits).