The door that opened when another closed - bittersweet love.
This might come as a surprise to you, but I am not a cat person. I am an animal person. I have actually always wanted a dog. At the beginning of this year I decided to get a cat, because I felt I needed a substantial animal in my life (no offence to Onesie, my hamster!), and a dog wouldnāt fit into my life right now.
I didnāt know what to expect, nor did I know what kind of cat I wanted. I ended up choosing a lovely black and white cat called Milo. Well, he chose me, really. He was 4 years old when I adopted him and made himself at home straight away. He was always with me. He was my best buddy. And he was taken too soon, just 8.5 months later. The night when my neighbour brought his body over to me haunts me. How warm he still was. How he looked like he was sleeping, curled up in my arms one last time. I regularly replay that night in my mind. Desperately wishing that I hadnāt stayed in town after work that day, as he would have been shut inside with me already instead of being out by himself. I hopelessly try to turn back the clock and make things better. I know his death was sudden and not painful, because other than his head he was still in perfect condition. I know that he loved me, and knew that I loved him. I know that I gave him a lovely chapter of his life. My heart is still so broken. But Iāve already told my boyās story. This post is not about him.
That weekend, I decided I needed a distraction. A very kind friend took me to some local cat rescue centres. I went with an open mind - I wasnāt specifically looking to get a new cat, but wouldnāt rule it out if I did find someone I clicked with. Obviously I had nothing in particular in mind, as I hadnāt been planning on that weekās events. I had wanted another cat, but knew that Milo might have had... difficulties.
We saw a lot of cats that day. A lot of lovely cats, who Iām sure I would have grown to love and who I knew needed homes. None of them lit me up, though, so I just enjoyed having the chance to meet them and give them some fuss. That was, of course, until we entered a room full of kittens at the last centre we went to. I hadnāt expected to be getting kittens. But they were so, so cute. I felt bad for all of the other adult cats who so desperately needed homes, as Iām sure kittens always get picked first. But I needed to take care of myself, and kittens would provide me with a totally new experience to Milo. I saw this litter and I knew - my friend knew too. They were the ones. There were 3 kittens in the litter, but I only wanted to take 2 for financial and spatial reasons. Two were tabbies and one was totally black. I initially fell for both of the tabbies, as Iām sure most people do. That is why cat adoption centres are full of black cats. Iām ashamed to say I did that. Fortunately, I was talked into taking the black one and one of the tabbies. It was so, so difficult to choose between the tabbies, but Iāve been told that the boy I left behind found a new home later that week too.
These kittens. They are such characters. I am so pleased I have them. They are no replacement for Milo, but they dull the pain of mourning. They make me smile. They make me laugh out loud. They are so, so special. I had several friends tell me that they hadnāt wanted to suggest it as it was so soon, but that I had definitely done the right thing.
Toddy, the tabby, was ill for the first two weeks. He was very quiet and very tense and very, very sad. Iām pleased to report that heās feeling much better now and has really come out of his shell. Heās so relaxed and loves to roll over for a belly rub. He will clamber onto my lap to be with me, and he will lay in my arms if I pick him up for a cuddle. He is extra fluffy, and he gets extra meals right now because being sick made him skinny. He plays with toys less than his sister, but now starts at least 50% of their games of chase. He has short legs and still looks extra baby-like, so everything he does is multiplied in cuteness. His bum-wiggle when heās getting ready to pounce is just about the cutest thing Iāve ever seen.
Catniss, my black cat, is so mischievous. I couldnāt be more happy that I took her, and Iām sad to think that my initial attraction to the tabbies could have left such an amazing little cat struggling to find a home. She is so playful, so fast, so entertained by everything. She doesnāt like being picked up, but she will happily climb all over you as long as itās on her terms. At the same time, she is so, so loving. She will be the cat that sits and licks me. That purrs as soon as I stroke her. That quite literally crawls into my arms when Iām in bed. I cannot believe it is possible to be so mischievous and so loving at the same time.
Iām going to give my kids a good life. I love them in a different way to how I loved Milo - he was my first cat and it was just me and him. But I love them nonetheless. They manage to make me smile even when Iām crying. They give me a reason to get up in the morning.




















