I mentioned a few months ago, that we got a cat. Well, maybe like six months ago now? So, yeah, he’s been around awhile I guess. Chalk it up to the school year from hell. Maybe someday, I think to myself regularly, someday I’ll get back on this blog. Even though now I’ve already given it the kiss of death: neglect.
But I think that kids need pets growing up. It teaches them to be respectful of other living things. It teaches them responsibility and a whole host of other things that I don’t need to list here. Animals are just good to have around. And if nothing, Gromit’s death has taught me to not take for granted. Even on the days when you’re rushed and they’re up your ass for wanting to be fed, or you’re tripping over them, they’re fucking awesome for your mental health.
I wanted to get another dog. For months after Gromit had passed, I scoured rescue sites. I looked at breeders. I wanted another lab! No, I didn’t want another lab! How could I? It would never compare. I knew they wouldn’t be the same, and I recognized that, but I felt like there was this empty hole. Of course there was an empty hole and it’s still there, but it doesn’t hurt as much, or rather, it still hurts a lot, just in a different way. There is not a single day that goes by that I don’t think of him). We’re less than two months away from the end of the school year. Then summer. Then? FULL FUCKING DAYS OF SCHOOL. Had our school schedule not been so challenging and chaotic this year, I probably would have cried at the thought. But incessant talking is pretty much like Chinese water torture. If it’s always there, you can’t really fully appreciate it, rather it just fucking wastes you to the point of your eyes just glazing over and hiding. Lots and lots of hiding. It’s really hard when one of them is always with you. And so, there’s no way I want to be training another puppy when I will be able to take some time to myself and just breathe.
And so, we’ve settled into life with one dog and now this cat. And I haven’t really given him proper…props. Probably because I spent the last few months in an anxious fit, thinking my cat is…oh wait for it…autistic.
Go ahead. Laugh. Really.
He’s a little bit special. He was from a small litter of just two, and I think socially, he just didn’t learn cat like things. He couldn’t jump for the longest time, and is still pretty mediocre at it, by cat standards. Especially lanky Siamese standards. As far as being social, it took him months to not be skittish. His home base was our bedroom for a good four months before he felt comfortable coming downstairs and exploring. Siamese cats are notorious for being super loud. “Don’t answer him, it will just encourage him.” Even by Siamese cat standards, he’s still far quieter than any Siamese cat I’ve ever met. Over the past month, he’s found his voice a bit.
OK, to be fair, he isn’t always a cross-eyed derp. But I’m trying to help my cause here.
But this cat has ended up being exactly the right thing for us. He is everything I wanted in the list of things that were important to us, when we told the breeder what we were looking for. He is calm, easy going and he loves everyone. It took him awhile to pick his person. Like Goldilocks: This one is just right. He’s finally settled on the Meester as his main person. But when it comes down to it, he makes sure that every one of us receives love from him at some point in the day.“You can’t even bread a cat right.”
And this. He puts up with shit like this every day.