Friends.
We're going to pick up both kitties this afternoon at 4:30.
I am absolutely terrified this will not work out, but still so happy.
I was raised around cats. My family had two cats, Sam and Sergeant, who slept in my crib with me like big tabby-striped pillows, and we never had fewer than three cats while I lived at home. Our average was four or five, our max was eight. They were all altered, they all had their shots and were well-cared-for, clean, healthy, vetted, and spoiled. They were indoor/outdoor cats, so they had room to get away from each other, and they generally got along okay. The more cats in a household, the more likely each cat is to have another cat or two they get along with, which takes the pressure off the rest, who don't have to deal with unwanted overtures of affection. I grew up watching cats socialize in a pretty much ideal environment, and I have to say that it was a really wonderful thing to observe. I've always missed that, and that's what I am hoping to create with these two silly boys. Some friendships, a working kitty social group.
Tazendra hated Sif from the moment we brought Sif home, and neither of them liked Fish at all, they were the worst possible mix of personalities, each so different from the others that they annoyed one another too much to ever become friends. I've lived for sixteen years in a household where the cats were tolerant at best, but never affectionate. I'm hoping that it will go better this time. At least these new cats know each other already, so they'll have at least one friend.
The other thing about how I grew up is that our indoor/outdoor cats suffered casualties. I lost a lot of cats to cars, one to antifreeze, a couple went out and never came home. I grew up with pet loss. We had about twenty cats in eighteen years, and we eventually lost them all. Only a couple lived long enough to die of natural causes, and they were the really, really smart ones. So I was raised losing friends. But I never loved the next one less, I never got the knack of holding myself apart so that I wouldn't get hurt. I never kept them at a distance. I never could say no to another.
So I'm used to taking the shot to the gut and getting up again, I'm used to moving on to meet the next cat, used to separating my grief from how I feel about other cats, new cats. It's not a knack everyone has, which is unfortunate, since it helps the pain immensely, but I can't say I recommend learning it the way I did, which was dreadful (and is why I will never again have cats that go outdoors). I'm glad I have it. It makes it easier to go on and make new friends. It's just what I do. I lose one, I grieve, I find another, because it is, on some level, my self-appointed job to take in cats that need me and care for them, and having an empty space feels very much like selfishness, like refusing to help a friend that needs help (even if I haven't met that friend yet). There is no replacing the pets I've lost, of course, there is only meeting the next one and finding out how delightful they are in their own way. I've never known any two cats that were particularly alike.
I hope, in the wake of what I lost with Tazendra, who was a terrible cat and the very best of companions, all this experience will serve me well, and make me as able to adapt to new little friends as I've always been. I hope I didn't lose something too great to overcome so soon. I'm confident, but I don't really know. Not for sure. I've never lost any friend so dear to me. I want her back. I don't expect that new cats will ever change that. Someday I will want them back, too, and I'll want Tazendra back just as badly, still, when that day comes, the same way I still want Flame back, and Thor, and Wuss, and Twindle, and Weed, and all the others.
But I keep doing this, even though I know this road just goes in one big circle of making friends and losing them. I keep volunteering for this.
Sucker.
I am absolutely terrified this will not work out, but still so happy.
I was raised around cats. My family had two cats, Sam and Sergeant, who slept in my crib with me like big tabby-striped pillows, and we never had fewer than three cats while I lived at home. Our average was four or five, our max was eight. They were all altered, they all had their shots and were well-cared-for, clean, healthy, vetted, and spoiled. They were indoor/outdoor cats, so they had room to get away from each other, and they generally got along okay. The more cats in a household, the more likely each cat is to have another cat or two they get along with, which takes the pressure off the rest, who don't have to deal with unwanted overtures of affection. I grew up watching cats socialize in a pretty much ideal environment, and I have to say that it was a really wonderful thing to observe. I've always missed that, and that's what I am hoping to create with these two silly boys. Some friendships, a working kitty social group.
Tazendra hated Sif from the moment we brought Sif home, and neither of them liked Fish at all, they were the worst possible mix of personalities, each so different from the others that they annoyed one another too much to ever become friends. I've lived for sixteen years in a household where the cats were tolerant at best, but never affectionate. I'm hoping that it will go better this time. At least these new cats know each other already, so they'll have at least one friend.
The other thing about how I grew up is that our indoor/outdoor cats suffered casualties. I lost a lot of cats to cars, one to antifreeze, a couple went out and never came home. I grew up with pet loss. We had about twenty cats in eighteen years, and we eventually lost them all. Only a couple lived long enough to die of natural causes, and they were the really, really smart ones. So I was raised losing friends. But I never loved the next one less, I never got the knack of holding myself apart so that I wouldn't get hurt. I never kept them at a distance. I never could say no to another.
So I'm used to taking the shot to the gut and getting up again, I'm used to moving on to meet the next cat, used to separating my grief from how I feel about other cats, new cats. It's not a knack everyone has, which is unfortunate, since it helps the pain immensely, but I can't say I recommend learning it the way I did, which was dreadful (and is why I will never again have cats that go outdoors). I'm glad I have it. It makes it easier to go on and make new friends. It's just what I do. I lose one, I grieve, I find another, because it is, on some level, my self-appointed job to take in cats that need me and care for them, and having an empty space feels very much like selfishness, like refusing to help a friend that needs help (even if I haven't met that friend yet). There is no replacing the pets I've lost, of course, there is only meeting the next one and finding out how delightful they are in their own way. I've never known any two cats that were particularly alike.
I hope, in the wake of what I lost with Tazendra, who was a terrible cat and the very best of companions, all this experience will serve me well, and make me as able to adapt to new little friends as I've always been. I hope I didn't lose something too great to overcome so soon. I'm confident, but I don't really know. Not for sure. I've never lost any friend so dear to me. I want her back. I don't expect that new cats will ever change that. Someday I will want them back, too, and I'll want Tazendra back just as badly, still, when that day comes, the same way I still want Flame back, and Thor, and Wuss, and Twindle, and Weed, and all the others.
But I keep doing this, even though I know this road just goes in one big circle of making friends and losing them. I keep volunteering for this.
Sucker.