After a period of mourning time, I started thinking about getting another cat. Two is a comfortable number for me, although I have had as many as 7.
The decision was made for me by the other cat herself.You may remember her. She has been known as Missy, but lately she has become much more happy and social, and so now she also goes by Blossom.
Blossom came in from outside and has retained some of the wary personality she developed from living in an uncertain and difficult world. She just recently began sleeping in a chair instead of hiding most of the day, and jumping up on the bed at night for some extra attention. Sometimes when the weather is cold, she even sleeps at the foot of the bed for part of the night.
I had been thinking about getting another cat in a general way, but one evening Blossom made the decision for me. During the Christmas decorating, I moved my favorite cat figurine from the mantlepiece to the coffee table. It's a very realistically shaped kitten in a playful position. Blossom walked by a few minutes later and did a double-take. She then patted it with her paw, rubbed her face on it, and gave me a very puzzled look that clearly said, "Why can't I get this kitten to play with me?" I realized: Blossom is lonely.
That evening I started looking for another cat in earnest. I cruised the local rescue website and started filling out an application. It is quite ardurous, requiring (among other things) the name and phone of my landlord so they can verify that I have permission to have a cat. I was picturing a calm, friendly, cat-social older cat, because I know they are harder to place. Most people want a kitten, but I did not.
Meanwhile, the universe had its own ideas, as the universe often does. The very next day I got an e-mail: Kitten to Good Home. A friend's massage therapist's neighbor (got that?) had found a kitten hiding in his car engine, but no one involved wanted to keep it. The pictures were fuzzy but there was something about that little fluffy tabby body and those blue eyes.
I sent the e-mail to my gentleman friend and said, "I know this is a serious change of direction, but I think the universe has made me a kitten." A meeting was arranged, and the rest is history.
Intrepid explorer Magellan (a/k/a Maggie) is 13 weeks old now. She is 3 pounds of charm and energy, delightfully playful, and never tires of investigating her world. Blossom and I are adjusting to the schedule and enthusiasm of having a baby in the house. And yes, she really is this lovely, although she hardly ever holds still for a photo. For every one of these, I have 15 blurry ones, where she was simply moving too fast.