I don’t have a very good gut.
Stay with me, it’ll make sense in a minute.
People are always saying, “Just listen to your gut. You’ll know what to do.” Clearly, they’ve never met me or my gut. I don’t have one loud, clear voice ringing out in times of peril or confusion pointing the way. I have 19 different voices all shouting at varying decibels pointing out every different possibility. “But what if?!” “And then maybe!” “BUT WHAT IF?!?!” “MAYBE THEN?!” It’s very noisy in my gut, is what I’m saying.
It’s been less than two weeks, but part of me desperately wants another kitty. If Westley hadn’t needed a single kitty home (and if the Apartminium was more than 600 square feet) I would have rescued another in the past year. Parenthetical aside: we are just whole heartedly embracing the crazy cat lady now. Even if we have no cats. And there is no we. So, really it’s just crazy lady, which, really nothing new. But I’ve had a hard time with just rushing out and letting another fur-based lifeform sleep in the same bed, scratch
my couches the same scratchers, etc, etc, crazypants. “You know, you’re not cheating on your cat if you give another a home, right?” were the exact words my boss told me yesterday after I told her ImaybemightbepossiblygoingtothehumanesocietyafterowrkIdon’tknowmaybe. “WELL IT FEELS LIKE IT!” was my only response. Side note: the benefits of working for a family friend who has known you since you were nine? You can occasionally just lay all your crazy right out in the open.
It feels like cheating though. I logically know it’s not, but it does. I’d look on the humane society site checking to see if the new dude had been adopted yet and I’d want him nownownow. Then I’d look at pictures of Westley and want ONLY HIM. NO ONE ELSE OMG WHY IS HE GONE THIS SUCKS. And then I’d worry that I’m setting myself up for more heartbreak because apparently sudden heart failure is JUST REALLY common in cats. Especially Maine Coons. Especially male Maine Coons. Which Westley was and the new guy is. And I’ve found myself extremely partial to the long-haired guys despite ZOMG ALL THE FUR EVER ON EVERYTHING FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE DEAR GOD THE FUR. And a female would probably be okay, but not a black and white because of obvious crazypants reasons and god no other cat is ever going to be as awesome so I’ll just go lay down in bed now and weep while watching a kitty slideshow on my phone. And yeah, all you short-haired cats are out, SORRY YOU NEED A HOME, BUT YOU’RE FOLLICULARLY CHALLENGED. And don’t you look at me with those cute little we do better in twos kitten eyes because there are adults who need homes. Oh, but not you ten year old FIV kitty who just needs love because OMG MY HEART DON’T EVEN LOOK AT ME WHY ARE YOU LICKING MY HAND NOOOOOO. And with my own gut shouting 307 different opinions at me the internet was pretty much split 50/50. One half all, “YAY KITTY!” while the other was all, “IS HE EVEN COLD YET YOU MONSTER?” Which, I KNOW. But maybe a trip wouldn’t hurt. Maybe, despite the fact that my gut is defective when it comes to giving me clear cut answers (but super awesome at eating cake) maybe going and meeting the new cat would help.
So, yesterday I bit the bullet and after 23 wrong turns in my own city to a building I’d been to 19 times in the past year I finally made it. And I walked in and straight to the
replacement New Cat and. He was asleep. Now, if you so much as took too large of a breath or even thought about Westley while he was sleeping he was up and awake faster than anything I’ve ever seen. So, I lightly ran my finger along the fur in between New Cat’s toes. He didn’t so much as twitch. So I scratched his chin. Nothing. After five solid minutes of me all but pulling him off his bed by his tail he finally stretched, opened his eyes and paid exactly no attention to me. This, however, did not deter me as when I went to visit Westley for the first time he not only ignored me for the volunteer, he bit me when I got too close to what I would later learn was his DO NOT TOUCH EVER OMG WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU area on his hip. So, I spent almost 45 minutes with New Cat while the volunteer told me he was the alapha of the room and rather bossy and tried to sell me on almost any other cat and omg what do you not get about no short hair? It’s clearly spelled out C R A Z Y. Sheesh, lady. He’d do well with a single kitty home where he could boss someone around to give him treats and give him solo attention. He wanted to be in the middle of everything and based on her description was sweet but the diametric opposite of Westley in every way. Now, I take their assessments of the cats there loosely. I thought I was getting a grump when I went to get Westley. Turns out he just hated the shelter. Which, I get. I wouldn’t do well in a group home either.
But I left and as I got into my car I realized my gut was finally agreeing on one thing. Not yet. It’s too soon for me. I liked New Cat a lot. Dude’s been through a tornado and survived and just needs a good home (since apparently I can’t find a human man to try and fix I’ve resorted to cats. heh) and we’d probably get along famously. But not yet. When I went to visit Westley for the first time I ended up putting a hold on him, even though I’d planned to only go say hi. And while comparing the two does nobody any good, it’s one of the few other times in my life where I had a solid, single gut feeling. So, if New Cat is still there when I am ready in a few weeks/months then most likely he’ll come join the house of crazy. If he’s found a new home then I’ll find another guy or gal who needs a forever home.
Just, not yet.
And this is already over 1k and I’m so sorry for that, but just THANK YOU for all of your kind words about my uncle and Westley. Y’all are kind of fantastic.
UPDATE: New Cat was adopted yesterday not long after I left. I’m a little sad, but mostly happy he found a forever home.