Welcome home! Montana

I regularly talk to potential adopters who have recently lost a beloved feline friend. I listen sympathetically to the stories, each unique and poignant. And I counsel to let some time pass, to give room to grieve. The need to find a substitute companion is strong and understandable, but I think that sad gap is important and in the end healthier for the people involved.

I usually ask about what type of cat they have in mind. Unless they are very specific, I’ll suggest meeting some kitties a bit different from the one they lost. The cherished departed cat cannot ever be replaced; one instead must make room in one’s heart for someone else to love.

So I’ve had the opportunity to take my own advice. My Muppy succumbed to her final illness mid December. It’s been a miserable cold hard winter since. Missing her was like something I carried around on my back, painful and weighing me down. And gradually having stretches of time where I didn’t think about her, about my loss, have just made me feel weird and guilty.

Almost two months. Almost time.

Muppy was a pretty, delicate calico, devoted to me but angry at the world, loud and demanding, and funny and sweet. And I thought maybe I’d find the magic with another little girl, one who was a little more social and outgoing. I’ve kept an eye out at Maddy's as I made the rounds.

Then there was Montana (aka Costello). Seventeen pounds, black and white, a blustery klutzy lovey boy. I wasn't sure if I was ready, if he was right for me, but found myself telling people about him, locating the empty litter box and food dishes, putting the carrier in my car just in case. I had the raw gut feeling that might come before giving a speech or a big date, combined with a jittery hormonally charged sense that I should act-now-act-now what if he's gone...

Sunday, brought the boyfriend to the shelter to get his take. And it was a love fest. It felt right. Sunday, Montana came home.