When Knitting Was a Manly Art

One more post on this subject and I must let it go.

The first kitty we had to euthanize was our sweet girl Tilda May. A beautiful, mouse hunting tortie, she had contracted Feline Leukemia and survived nearly a year. One afternoon we returned from work to find her very sick and a quick run to the vets ended with her being put down. The only cat in our lives and because of the disease, the vet recommended we not bring other cats into the house for at least 6 months.

Six months later Ben and Jake came into our lives. They just seemed to become *my* cats. Jake in particular has always been the most demonstrative and loving of the pair, but Ben had his ways.

Over the past years, we have picked up rescues, feral borns and abandoned kitties, along with those born here on the farm to our uncatchable feral momcat. Our current count is 23 and there is no way I can stay blue with all these cats.

Trying to work in the greenhouse today was an experience. As soon as the door was opened, 6 cats streaked in, searching for warmth, frogs or just a place to get out of the rain. I had cats on my lap, cats on my shoulder, cats rubbing my legs and drooling in my ears.

I feel and understand the pain that Wendy is going through. Our loss of our first cat was a horrible experience, as was and is the loss of each cat that follows behind.

But for us, it’s like having a huge extended family. Everybody supports the others. As I type this I have our little rescue kitty Sybil sitting in my lap, chewing on my hand and covering me with yellow cat hair. I love my old man Ben and I’ll miss him for a long time, but how can you stay sad with all this love.

Popularity: 7% [?]