When our beloved cat, CC, died a couple months ago, I didn’t even want to write about it — too sad. He had been sick for months with something the vets couldn’t quite diagnose (despite our spending big bucks on numerous tests), though the symptoms were all too evident — chronic diarrhea and major weight loss, the poor thing. When he died that one Monday, we were shocked, sad, and yes, relieved. Caring for him had taken a lot out of us.
Still, we missed him so much — he of the best purr ever. And we still had Julius to love. We weren’t ready for another cat — “at least not yet,” we’d tell ourselves.
But, turns out another cat was ready for us.
Born just 6 days after CC died. An orange male, just like Julius. One of a litter of 5 kittens from a pregnant stray who showed up at the house of our neigbhor’s daughter’s boyfriend. They named him “Rory” — and when we heard about him, we were pretty sure we couldn’t resist.
We were right.
He became part of our family last week. 10 weeks old. 2.7 pounds. Impossibly cute and funny. (At least we think so; Julius is not so sure.)
Besides, we didn’t have enough to do, right?
And then, there’s the upside — nothing like a sweet little fuzzball to make you forget about money troubles and endless home improvements and dire political straits and laundry that needs doing and just. say. awwwwwwww.
As all pet lovers know, Rory will never replace CC in our hearts — or Julius for that matter. But he already has a spot all his own, right alongside.
Another cat? Perhaps. For love there is also a season;
its seeds must be resown. But a family cat is not replaceable
like a worn-out coat or a set of tires. Each new kitten becomes
its own cat, and none is repeated. I am four cats old, measuring out
my life in friends that have succeeded but not replaced one another.
~ Irving Townsend
Writing by Ear 