Monday Morning Meow
About a week ago, we welcomed a new animal into our lives. His name is Heathcliff and he's an orange tiger cat. If you're not sure about what an orange tiger cat looks like, imagine Daniel Tiger on Mr. Rogers, or better yet, the cat named Heathcliff. (We didn't choose the name Heathcliff, but I'm guessing whoever did thought he looked like that cartoon cat.)
At the time that I stumbled across Heathcliff (and his brother, Chester), I had no intention of allowing another cat into our house. But there they were, playing in a cage at our local pet store, with a paper that said the Humane Society was hoping to find forever homes for them. I'd been in that store many times, I'd seen many cats, none of them drew me in. Except these two.
At first glance, they reminded me of Lucy and Ferdinand when they were kittens. My two original babies, the ones I'd scurry home to after a long day at the lab. Something about the stripes or the set of their eyes maybe. I'm not really sure. All I know is that I found myself applying for two cats. Not one, but two.
To make a long story short, Chester found a home with the family that applied before we did, and Heathcliff came home with us. Peace reigned on the transition to three animals: Shadow sniffed him, Lucy came out of hiding to say hello, and Tim picked him up, presented him to the air, and said, "Simba!"
It's good to have a little one around the house. When I'm home, I watch him play with a cotton ball or pick at the string on the edge of the rug. He bats his paws as Lucy, who, since last week, has become as outgoing as he was before his brother died. The new little guy has infused a life into this house that we haven't seen for a while. And when I stare at him, I see Ferdinand. As if in this new little Heathcliff we've got Ferdinand's spirit with us again.
Stranger things have happened.
At the time that I stumbled across Heathcliff (and his brother, Chester), I had no intention of allowing another cat into our house. But there they were, playing in a cage at our local pet store, with a paper that said the Humane Society was hoping to find forever homes for them. I'd been in that store many times, I'd seen many cats, none of them drew me in. Except these two.
At first glance, they reminded me of Lucy and Ferdinand when they were kittens. My two original babies, the ones I'd scurry home to after a long day at the lab. Something about the stripes or the set of their eyes maybe. I'm not really sure. All I know is that I found myself applying for two cats. Not one, but two.
To make a long story short, Chester found a home with the family that applied before we did, and Heathcliff came home with us. Peace reigned on the transition to three animals: Shadow sniffed him, Lucy came out of hiding to say hello, and Tim picked him up, presented him to the air, and said, "Simba!"
It's good to have a little one around the house. When I'm home, I watch him play with a cotton ball or pick at the string on the edge of the rug. He bats his paws as Lucy, who, since last week, has become as outgoing as he was before his brother died. The new little guy has infused a life into this house that we haven't seen for a while. And when I stare at him, I see Ferdinand. As if in this new little Heathcliff we've got Ferdinand's spirit with us again.
Stranger things have happened.
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