We adopted Harris from a rescue organization in Newtown, Connecticut. We were told that a family took his pregnant mother into their home and helped her raise her kittens before placing them at the rescue. There were children who cared for him, held him, loved him, played with him— that's why he's the sweet, friendly guy he is. I even have plenty of baby pictures, courtesy of his thoughtful foster mother. I've never had a baby picture of a cat I've adopted before; they are like gold to me.
I don't know how that family is faring tonight, but I'm thinking of them, and hoping with all my heart that they are safe. I've been feeling sick and sad since I heard about the tragedy — we were out doing errands and getting our tree so we didn't hear the news until later. The loss is unfathomable. I emailed Robin, who runs the rescue organization and has become a friend, and she told me she's devastated. The shooter lived down the road from her. On the news tonight, I recognized the pretty, woodsy neighborhood where she lives.
There was no way we could decorate a Christmas tree tonight. I don't know if it's hitting me so hard because we have a connection to Newtown. Maybe. But here's the thing: we're all connected.