Since mid-2008, just before I left my last permanent job, The Man and I have had two cats. The original two were tiny litter-mates; one male, one female. I remember the night we got them home – the poor, minuscule things were petrified of this new big walled place, and they hid all evening under the table in the corner. The female protected the male, dear love her.
She was always a very good cat, though he certainly had his moments as a kitten. He got himself trapped in a vacant house when he was maybe six months old, for example. But he didn’t get himself mowed down by a car when he was three years old, like his sister fatally did 😦 We still miss her, over a year later.
At the time of her death her brother was, understandably, upset and unsettled. From our perspective, we didn’t want a second cat until we had time to deal with our loss – and perhaps in retrospect, we should have listened to that instinct. However, we tried to think from the cat’s point of view – he had no feline company, and in any case, we didn’t want him coming to be used to being alone and subsequently being horrified when we did finally get another companion for him. So, in the wake of our female’s loss, we acted relatively quickly and got another kitten. Continue reading