We Let Them Into Our Hearts, Knowing They'll Break Them in the End
So last weekend really sucked.
I miss Luna, tiny bundle of fluff, nerves, and affection that she was. I miss the vocal demands for affection. I miss the morning cuddles, when she'd settle into the space beside me on the bed, not touching, but hanging out. I miss her amazing self-petting action: you'd put your hand out, and she'd rub back and forth under it. It's been completely weird going downstairs this week, and seeing Marinetti curled in the papasan chair, without Luna on the padded stool beside.
She lived with me for eight years, and there's now a Luna shaped hole in the world.
More practically, speaking, there's been room for another cat in this house. It's weird having just one cat here. And today, the Toronto Cat Rescue had an adopt-a-thon at a pet supplies store not far from here. So
captainmushroom, the increasingly-less-wee Mushroom Lad (who, ironically doesn't like mushrooms at all), and I went. Just to see. Maybe one of the cats there-not a black and white cat, not a skittish Ontario Barn Cat-needed to come home with me.
We saw a lovely black and white kitten named Lily, who played with everyone. She could have gone home with anyone, and eventually she did. But not with me. Captainmushroom fell in love with a spotty black and white girl, who snuggled into his arms (and into mine), but eventually went home with someone else. Two tiny black kittens-two months old, and all eyes, fluff, and little tails-entranced the WML, but we knew that tiny kittens would find a home. A dignified grey fellow looked lovely, and his fosterer assured us that he had the temperament to match, but he wouldn't give me the time of day. Ditto the trio of slightly older kittens: one mostly black, one black and white, and one calico.
And then I opened the cage for this two-year-old beauty, and she wandered into my arms, and looked up at me, and purred quietly.
So, despite some reservations about how she would get on with Marinetti, I went home to get the carrier and sabotabby and I brought her home.
So far, she's spent about an hour sitting on top of my shoes in the back of my closet, wandered out into my office to snurfle around and nibble some kibble, wandered out of the office and explored my room, exchanged some Language with Marinetti, and discovered the nice place to hang out on the chest under the window. Right now, she and Marinetti are staring at each other, but he's staying in the hallway and not making eye contact, and she's settled on the floor of my room. I expect a certain amount of discussion will ensue.
I think her name is Musetta.
She doesn't replace Luna, but she's a lovely girl who will, I expect, make her own place in this household.
I miss Luna, tiny bundle of fluff, nerves, and affection that she was. I miss the vocal demands for affection. I miss the morning cuddles, when she'd settle into the space beside me on the bed, not touching, but hanging out. I miss her amazing self-petting action: you'd put your hand out, and she'd rub back and forth under it. It's been completely weird going downstairs this week, and seeing Marinetti curled in the papasan chair, without Luna on the padded stool beside.
She lived with me for eight years, and there's now a Luna shaped hole in the world.
More practically, speaking, there's been room for another cat in this house. It's weird having just one cat here. And today, the Toronto Cat Rescue had an adopt-a-thon at a pet supplies store not far from here. So
captainmushroom, the increasingly-less-wee Mushroom Lad (who, ironically doesn't like mushrooms at all), and I went. Just to see. Maybe one of the cats there-not a black and white cat, not a skittish Ontario Barn Cat-needed to come home with me.
We saw a lovely black and white kitten named Lily, who played with everyone. She could have gone home with anyone, and eventually she did. But not with me. Captainmushroom fell in love with a spotty black and white girl, who snuggled into his arms (and into mine), but eventually went home with someone else. Two tiny black kittens-two months old, and all eyes, fluff, and little tails-entranced the WML, but we knew that tiny kittens would find a home. A dignified grey fellow looked lovely, and his fosterer assured us that he had the temperament to match, but he wouldn't give me the time of day. Ditto the trio of slightly older kittens: one mostly black, one black and white, and one calico.
And then I opened the cage for this two-year-old beauty, and she wandered into my arms, and looked up at me, and purred quietly.
So, despite some reservations about how she would get on with Marinetti, I went home to get the carrier and sabotabby and I brought her home.
So far, she's spent about an hour sitting on top of my shoes in the back of my closet, wandered out into my office to snurfle around and nibble some kibble, wandered out of the office and explored my room, exchanged some Language with Marinetti, and discovered the nice place to hang out on the chest under the window. Right now, she and Marinetti are staring at each other, but he's staying in the hallway and not making eye contact, and she's settled on the floor of my room. I expect a certain amount of discussion will ensue.
I think her name is Musetta.
She doesn't replace Luna, but she's a lovely girl who will, I expect, make her own place in this household.