Our cat passed away almost three years ago after M and I made the incredibly painful decision to end his suffering. Ever since that day we’ve resisted the urge to get a new cat.
Well, M resisted the urge and all my pleading. Between the wonder baby who never slept, work, the toddler, more work, and everything else, we didn’t have it in us to take on one more responsibility. Once Little L started sleeping and I took control of my professional life, we got complacent and still didn’t open our hearts and our home to another cat.
It was just easier to not have someone else to care for. We could head to the beach for the weekend on a last minute whim. We could stay out all day without feeling guilty or worrying about a hungry pet. We could go away for two weeks in the winter without worrying about finding a cat sitter.
Then, a month ago, on her birthday, a good friend called me and asked me to take in a cat.
“He’s… just… special. And if you don’t take him he’s going to the pound.”
I didn’t agree right away. I just agreed to come see him. And somehow M didn’t say no either. Which is how we found ourselves sitting on the floor of our friends’ bathroom, with a kitten on our laps. A kitten who never hissed, never acted scared, just acted like he had always known us.
An hour later we were driving home, delirious children and mewing kitten in the back.
He is special. There’s no doubt. Little L manhandles him, loves him, hits him, tries to strangle him, loves on him some more. He never fights back. C plays with him endlessly and he never stops rallying. He plays catch. As in, we throw a ball and he runs to get it, catches it, and brings it back, and does it again and again and again, until we lose the ball. He cuddles, but doesn’t mind sleeping alone. He’s housebroken and not a picky eater. And he’s just a good cat. A sweet, lovely, good cat.
And it’s amazing how disruptive such a sweet little thing can be.
It’s impossible to know if Little L has been coughing on and off since we got him because she keeps getting sick, or if she keeps getting sick because she’s somewhat allergic to the cat. Ditto for me. M is definitely allergic and just stays away from him. But the real disruption has been in the middle of the night. When Little L is sick her sleep patterns revert to her old habits – up every couple hours coughing, needing water, needing a diaper, needing a hug. Whenever she wakes up, he wakes up. And when he wakes up he meows, which wakes up the girls even more.
I haven’t slept well in two weeks and it’s making me crabby. Really crabby. Crabby enough to think that cuteness and sweetness aren’t enough to guarantee you a home in my house.
No matter how cute you are.