How in the world does one justify taking on the care of a kitten when they’re in need of care themselves?
Gary used to take care of me; now, I take care of him. But you’ve heard all about that. I’m trying to understand my state of mind and wondering where my common sense went – if I ever had any.
Every night when we pretty much collapse after the end of a long day I feel the pang of loss – the loss of a furry friend curling up next to one of us, demanding attention, stealing food or getting into other kinds of mischief.
I was rapidly losing the ability to deal with most of that. I couldn’t just jump up and handle things with Blacki. I just couldn’t. The pain was too fierce, especially at that time of night. And there were the bathroom trips – outside, inside, outside, inside. It was too much.
But a cat? A cat I can handle. We’ve had lots of the little furry critters over the years. They all had their own personality. So do dogs. But they’re different, you know? They snuggle (some of them, anyway), purr, play, sleep on your head, bite your toes and jump up on counters and tables. They climb curtains and race around for no reason.
I have so much room in my heart for a kitten. Maybe I should let one find us, but I hope they hurry. Every night (and day) without one is one too many.
January 30, 2018