Good home visit and a long story

We had a good home visit, I think. At least that's what the home inspector lady said. She liked the house setup, the yard, the cats, the fact that we are very familiar with the breed and its traits (the German Shedder, the bark, the aloofness to strangers, the size, the level of activity). She said she was going home to write up a sort of report and recommend that we be given the dog we wanted, Kira.

So, my feelings right now are on an upswing again. I believe she is ours. I mean, for goodness sake, her photo is my computer wallpaper already. It simply has to be. H feels like she is ours already, too. I'm surprised with how quickly he became attached to her.

This is interesting. I have had many pets. But I have obsessed this way only twice, both times after I lost a pet. First there was Rocky (short for Rachmaninoff, not Sylvester Stallone). He was a beautiful, huge, black cat that adopted us in Houston. His teeth were so large that they came out of his mouth like a sabre-tooth tiger's. Even so, he was a big sweety and we really loved him. When we moved to the DC area, we lost him from our apartment. It was devasating. We went to the local animal shelter to see if he had been brought in. I went from cage to cage, and I was sure at every one that I would find Rocky. I mean, really, even when I saw a black and white cat, I was sure it was my all-black Rocky.

At one point, H said, "Hey, look at this cat." There was this gray and white long-haired (Turkish Van or Ragdoll) cat (about six months old, but very large), on its back, reaching out of the cage with his big soft paws and patting H on the arm. H was charmed, but I just glanced at the cat and said, "Yeah, he's cute." Still focused on Rocky, I wasn't really interested. I wanted Rocky. I was very disappointed and we left. We never found Rocky, and it has haunted me to this day. I hope I never lose a pet that way again.

On the way home from the shelter, I started thinking about the gray and white cat and I couldn't get him out of my head. I called the shelter the next day and they said the cat (Toby, they called him) had to stay for three days to see if the owners came and got him. I asked to be put on the list to adopt him. They didn't have a list. I called the next day. No one had claimed him. I called on the third day and they said he would be available in the afternoon if no one claimed him. I could not stop thinking about that beautiful cat, Toby. And I loved his name.

Later, I called them again and they told me he was available for adoption. I was excited and said I'd be there and that it would take us a while to get there, and would they please hold Toby for us. No, they didn't hold animals. It was first come first serve. This was before there were cell phones, so the hour and a half drive from my office to the animal shelter was pure anxiety. When we got there, I was on pins and needles. But they said Toby was still available.

When I went back to see him, there was a young girl with her mom: "See, Mom? This is the one I want," she said, standing next to Toby's cage, and my heart practically lept out of my chest. There was NO way anyone was getting that cat away from me. At the same time, I felt guilty that she might feel the same way about Toby as I did, and still I wouldn't let go. But when the volunteer said "Honey, this cat is taken," the little girl turned away and went to another cat. I realized she was not as obsessed and I was.

And so Toby went home with us, and he was the most wonderful cat. We got him a mail-order bride (Sadie), and we had two teriffic cats for 16 years. Those two cats did everything together. They even went deaf at the same time (could it have been a virus?). And they had to be put to sleep on the same day. When I lost those two cats, I was ok. They were both very ill, with different issues, one with lymphoma, the other with spine issues. Even though I was alone for this one, too, while my husband and son were on a scout trip, I was ok. It was a sweet release, and I still had little Wolfie to keep me company. I missed those wonderful two inseparable cats. But I was ok.

But the obsession I felt with Toby was not there when we got Sadie, or when we got Wolfie, or even when we got Ziggy (there's an interesting story). It wasn't even there when we got Daily (and I absolutely adore Daily, my little familiar). It wasn't until I lost Ziggy in such a sudden and unexpected way that I became obsessed again. There is a parallel.

So, now I am obsessed with this absolutely gorgeous dog, Kira. I feel like she is ours already. We keep talking about what we are going to do with her. We want to take her in the truck to the mountains for a nice hike. I want to take her to Lea's so she can go for a walk with Cherokee, and make friends with another dog. I want my sad, mourning Daily to cuddle with her and make her feel like part of our pack.

OK, so I still haven't told the Ziggy story yet. I told a Rocky and Toby story. But those stories show how I have always been a cat person. I didn't really have a thought then about having a dog. It was always cats for me. And the hub was so patient. Cats were fine with him. He'd had dogs all his life. He used to say we should get a fine GSD, and I always laughed...such a big dog! Why not start small...you know, a miniature poodle. "No Fifi's !!!" says my son. "Absolutely NO Fifi's" and I always laughed. Ok, why not a teacup Yorkie? No, says the son, a German Shepherd.

And I laughed and dropped it. Ah, but little did I know what was in the future. And that is a story for another post.