Several years ago, out of nowhere, I had I stray cat meowing out my front door. It was horribly cold out, and she was obviously ill, and out of curiosity, I let her inside. Working night shift at the time I was worried about a cat wanting in and out etc while I was asleep. But as soon as I lay down, she jumped on the bed with me, cuddled up, and never left.
She became an inside kitty, was healthy and sweet, and was my little blonde shadow. She just wanted to be wherever I was.
A couple weeks ago I had to let her go. We didn't know it until then, but she had a disease called feline immunodeficiency virus. Essentially the cat version of aids. The treatments would've been more for my selfish needs to keep her alive, and would've just prolonged her life, but not stop her deterioration. She would've been sick and suffering. I couldn't put my furry friend through more pain. I loved her too much to make her to stay.
The last few weeks have been rough. Some days are harder than others. But some days are getting better.
As I, and the rest of the household, begin to get to the other side of our grief, the question of getting another cat has come up. I know that, presently speaking, my heart just isn't ready.
But I'm concerned that if i do get a another, I'll be disappointed that she's not just like my kitty. That I'll only be trying to replace and replicate, not being able to love another for their own personality. But I'm also finding myself really lonely. My bed is too big now, and it's too quiet. And damned if I don't even miss her shedding and digging to Russia in the litter-box.
Maybe I'm pushing too hard to get over it, or over-thinking things. But I guess I'm asking for peoples own experiences in this. Where you ever really ready for another furbaby?
She became an inside kitty, was healthy and sweet, and was my little blonde shadow. She just wanted to be wherever I was.
A couple weeks ago I had to let her go. We didn't know it until then, but she had a disease called feline immunodeficiency virus. Essentially the cat version of aids. The treatments would've been more for my selfish needs to keep her alive, and would've just prolonged her life, but not stop her deterioration. She would've been sick and suffering. I couldn't put my furry friend through more pain. I loved her too much to make her to stay.
The last few weeks have been rough. Some days are harder than others. But some days are getting better.
As I, and the rest of the household, begin to get to the other side of our grief, the question of getting another cat has come up. I know that, presently speaking, my heart just isn't ready.
But I'm concerned that if i do get a another, I'll be disappointed that she's not just like my kitty. That I'll only be trying to replace and replicate, not being able to love another for their own personality. But I'm also finding myself really lonely. My bed is too big now, and it's too quiet. And damned if I don't even miss her shedding and digging to Russia in the litter-box.
Maybe I'm pushing too hard to get over it, or over-thinking things. But I guess I'm asking for peoples own experiences in this. Where you ever really ready for another furbaby?


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