We are holding our breath with excitement about the prospect of adopting Charly! I'll be shopping the pet stores on Newbury Street for a kitten-size litter box and other supplies, including bitter-apple spray to makes electrical cords and computer cables unappetizing for chewing. We'll be preparing my husband's office as the kitten's room, where he'll live while Wendy and Possum get used to him and vice-versa. I'm looking forward to sleeping on the floor in there, on sofa cushions; that's how Possum and I bonded during his first nights here. He slept curled up in the bend of my knees when he wasn't walking around on me, purring. He still does that.
I'm going into neurotic cat-mother mode: I'm worrying about little paws getting caught in our lace curtains; those old curtains are finally looking clean and pretty, but I might chuck them anyway. And I had one of those panic moments after I started the washer this morning because I didn't double-check that there wasn't a kitten in there. I do realize that we don't HAVE a kitten yet. And I'd just carefully added about six items to an empty machine. Possum or Wendy would be very noticeable in there, not that they ever go in. But my instincts are kicking in, and there's nothing to be done.
And here's the thing: all this energy might be put towards two kittens instead of one.
It turns out that this kitten looks quite a bit like Bunnelina, my beloved calico who died three years ago. I didn't realize this when we filled out the application. From the photos, I couldn't see the similar patches down her back, from ears to tail, and I didn't notice her giant, "marbled" ears and the Dutch-rabbit markings around her eyes. I'd never known Bunny as a kitten, so I didn't make the connection. And I don't think about Bunny a lot because it still makes me miserable. (I sent this kitten's listing to our vet because, since she's recovering from serious illness, I had questions about whether she might have lasting health problems. Later, I heard that our vet's first impression was, "She looks like Bunny!")
Her name is Luna.
Well. When you love a cat, it breaks your heart when you lose her. And then you have a choice: you can love another cat, or you can withdraw in your sorrow and protect yourself from future heartbreak by being alone. I choose the former. Always will.
So I'm ready for that Bunny-esque kitten, who will likely have a very different personality from our proud, fearless, swearing, cuddly Bunny. This kitten nearly died from flea anemia, anorexia, and seizures brought on by a flea infestation so severe that it drained her blood. She's made a good recovery after two months of nursing by her foster mom, but she's tiny for her age and needs a little help to catch up developmentally. She likes cats, kids, and dogs, and she snuggles and purrs with her foster family, so she'd be a good playmate for Charly (and Wendy and Possum, we hope). And nice company for us.
At this point, I'm waiting to hear about whether someone else has adopted her. If she's gone, I'll be all right... If she's ours, we'll be doubly excited. But in the meantime, the uncertainty is killing me.
I'll keep you posted.