Slave to Feline Wiles

It is hard not to fall in love with George. He's 18 pounds of furry, purry, ridiculously content grey feline that lives with my dad and his wife deep in the heart of Texas. He has a great handle on life. Eat well, sleep well, establish your routine, and make relaxing with the people you love your biggest priority.

So it is no surprise, really, that Amy fell in love with George when we visited Dad and Lara over our holiday break. And it was no surprise when, on the way home from Texas, she brought up the idea of another cat. Hubby and I talked it over and decided that, sure, we'd be open to it. (Though I must admit that having lost our last three cats too young to three different fatal diseases, I felt and still do feel a little anxious that maybe it's me.)

And so, last week I visited our vet and mentioned that if they were to come across a healthy (please!) young female cat, to keep us in mind. A bit sheepishly, I added, "And we'd prefer declawed. I mean, we could never do it ourselves, but it would be nice if our furniture-"

When Dr. Carpenter cut me off, I feared she might lecture me about the inhumane aspects of declawing. (I agree!) Instead, she grabbed my hand and said, "I am so glad you said that. I wanted to call you, but I was afraid it was too soon after Saki." Amy and I looked at each other. "Come back here with me."

Oh shit, I thought. I knew that if I met a cat, I'd fall in love. Was I ready, really? I had it in my head that it would take weeks maybe months for New Cat to manifest.

She turned back to me, "And I should mention. There's two. Brother and sister. 5 years old. Front and back declaw. Healthy. Sweet. Just come on."

Oh double shit. TWO?! Double the brushing. Double the fur. Double the food. Double the trouble. Double the poop. Two?

"Their owner had them, bought a dog, and the dog kept trying to eat them. They've been living here because I couldn't bear to let them go to a shelter. They'd never get adopted. And certainly not together." We turned the corner. "Ah. There they are. They're out!"

Oh shit shit shit. Knippy, a "dilute calico" (kind of like a Monet version of a calico) instantly dove under her cage, shy. Fat Louie, sat up and meowed. I pet him. He purred. I snuggled him. He purred. He demanded Amy pet him. He purred. She and I looked at each other. I'm not sure how you say it in Korean, but I know we were both thinking it.

Shit shit shit. And shit. He's so cute. We talked turkey with the vet. Learned their story. Heard all the health and fitness tests they'd passed. And as we talked to the vet, Louie, no longer being pet or snuggled, tapped Amy on the shoulder and said, "Mew." We both translated this to mean, "Hey."

And so, Dear Readers, as you have no doubt guessed, I write this to you tonight with a purring Knippy at my feet and a purring Fat Louie snuggled next to me. Good think we bought a king sized bed when we moved here.