A New Sister for Lexie: Welcoming Rea

This post is only peripherally about Valencia, or Spain, or being an expatriate. It’s mostly about the #1 subject on the internet – cats!

Even before we left Portugal, we’d talked about the idea of getting Lexie a companion. She’s a sweet, quiet cat who gets a little bored at times when the humans aren’t entertaining enough. The plan had been to adopt in Lisbon, but life kept getting in the way with travel, holidays, guests, and it never quite happened.

Now that we’re more settled in Valencia, it finally felt like the right time.

We started where most modern pet adoptions begin: the internet. Specifically, various Facebook groups dedicated to animal rescue in Valencia. These are full of heartbreak. There are endless posts with tiny kittens rescued from the street, injured strays, and litters abandoned in boxes. It’s overwhelming, and we admire the people who dedicate themselves to this work.

But we also knew what we were looking for: not a kitten, but a slightly older cat, about a year old. Ideally, we wanted a female cat who was already socialized to people and other animals, chipped, vaccinated, spayed, and tested negative for feline leukemia. Our new vet here in Valencia, Dr. David, confirmed that this was a smart approach as being easier on us, and especially easier on Lexie.

We did find one cat online that we really liked. I chatted with the foster parent, things were looking good… and then we waited just a little too long to commit, and someone else adopted her. Classic case of hesitation in a fast-moving system.

I asked the foster parent for advice, and she gave me a few names of rescue agencies to try. I reached out to three.

And that’s when things got weird.

First, no one responds quickly. A week can go by between messages, and you’re never quite sure if you’re being ignored or if this is just the pace of things. Second, the tone of the replies we did get was unexpectedly… militant. Possibly a language barrier issue, but it felt a bit like being interrogated.

You must never let the cat outside. Okay, that’s fair. I come from LA, where there are coyotes, and you don’t let your cat outside unless you really don’t like it very much. But then came the requirement that all windows and balconies be secured with cat-proof netting. There were threats of inspections. Emotional appeals about what could happen if we didn’t comply. It was intense.

It was all a little surprising. In the U.S., our experiences had been much more laid-back. When we adopted Joey years ago, we went to a woman’s house who had converted a spare bedroom into the “cat room.” We sat on the floor with about 25 kittens, and waited for one of them to pick us. With Lexie, we visited the local shelter, and met a few cats. Once again, we were chosen – Lexie reached out and waved us over as we passed by.

In Valencia, there’s one shelter way out in the suburbs, but most rescues operate via foster homes. Some have a cat or two housed temporarily in a pet store, but there’s rarely an opportunity to actually spend time with the cat before making a decision. It’s more like a job interview. You apply, and if accepted, you commit. Meet-and-greets are brief, and adoption decisions often have to be made on the spot.

We kept looking.

And then Rea appeared in a Facebook post. We were taken with her immediately. The age was right at just under a year, and she was beautiful: a tortoise shell, just like Lexie. Green-eyed Lexie and golden-eyed Rea. Sisters in style.

I reached out. I was told someone who spoke English would get back to me.

A week passed. Nothing.

Eventually, after a follow-up nudge, we got a reply and an adoption application that was full of the same intense questions: What will you feed the cat? (Whatever the vet recommends.) What if it gets sick? (Take it to the vet.) What if it’s terminally ill? (Again, the vet.) A bit pushy and oddly intrusive, but we passed.

We arranged to meet her.

The meeting was at a vet’s office in Mislata, a close-in suburb. The cab ride there was the only truly bad taxi experience we’ve had in Valencia. I showed the driver the address on my phone. He nodded, then took us to a completely different part of town. After realizing the mistake, he headed in the right direction but got stuck in a traffic jam for 30 minutes, cursing in Valenciano the whole way.

We arrived half an hour late. I’d tried calling the vet clinic, but it was officially closed for lunch, and no one was answering phones. The foster parent was just about to leave. It was not ideal.

There wasn’t much time to interact with Rea before deciding. She seemed nervous but sweet. We agreed to adopt.

Within minutes, the vet had chipped her, given her final vaccinations, and created the official EU “passport” document. (Funny side note: we never had one of these for Lexie in Portugal, even though technically required under EU law, and neither of our vets there ever brought it up.)

Fifteen minutes later, we were in a cab headed home. And Rea had joined the family.

To make a long story only slightly shorter: Rea has integrated beautifully.

Over the first few days, we followed all the usual cat-introduction protocols with separate spaces, scent swapping, supervised visits. Rea adjusted quickly. Within a week, she and Lexie were playing, chasing each other, and hanging out together in the same room.

No snuggling yet, but there’s friendly sniffing, occasional tail flicks, and synchronized naps on the same furniture. It’s going remarkably well.

We’ll never know exactly how Lexie feels about this new development, but so far, she seems more engaged, less bored, and at least mildly entertained by her new golden-eyed shadow.

We’re glad we waited for the right cat. And we’re very happy to welcome Rea to the household.

Lexie has a sister. The humans have another pet to spoil. And yes, there are photos.