I wish for a lot of things. I wish spring would hurry up and get here. I wish for more time to write. I wish for a best seller.
At one point I thought about getting another cat. It was just a brief idea--I have two cats I love ferociously and they keep me pretty occupied. But cats, by their very nature, are addictive.
Unlike dogs, cats only cuddle you when THEY feel like it. Obtaining more cats increases your cuddle quotient. In a room full of feline friends, chances are ONE of them is willing to snuggle for oh, 3 minutes.
But I was content with just Freya and Sully. Just keeping up with litter box duty and tangled harnesses is plenty enough, thank you.
But if I WAS going to get another cat, I'd be really picky. It couldn't just be any cat.
It would have to be one I'd rescued...a stray. One in desperate need of love and a good home. Weather would factor in. I wouldn't need to take a stray inside in the summer. They can stay warm and dry and hunt. I'd only take one in if it was too cold or too wet. And it would need to be younger than Sully and Freya. There's already enough issues between the two of them. An older kitten would mostly likely fit better into the dynamic, I figured. I need to be firm with my guidelines, otherwise I'd be adopting every single cat I met.
And the powers that be in the universe said, "Really? That's your criteria? Okay, HERE." I guess I should have told the universe I wanted to wait a few years, and could I maybe have that best seller and extra time to write first?
Right now Spartacus Jones feels like an unwanted pregnancy. He's unexpected, unplanned for and I don't have time for this, but he isn't unloved. I mean, LOOK at that face!
On Monday night, my husband and my best friend went for a walk to get cigarettes. It had been raining AND snowing all day. They came home and told me about this little guy who followed them home.
Sure enough, I could hear the meows coming from outside...I couldn't leave him there, so in he came. As you can tell from the photo, he's quite comfortable here. He's sweet and gentle, despite the fact that he's got nasty scars on his ears and leg. He has a terrible puncture wound under his jaw. You can feel his ribs and his hip bones when you pet him. He whimpers in his sleep sometimes. He can't be more than three or four months old, and he's already been through too much.
The truth is, I don't think I could let him go now. He meets all the criteria. I mean...This feels like a Karma issue. It's a little too pat, don't you think? That he should be everything I asked for? Besides, I already love him. That's what he needs and deserves; to be safe and loved.
Interesting curveball, Universe. Well played, and wish me luck. I'm on the Highway to Catlady.