There's a cat. Sitting there, probably half dreading and half longing to meet me.
I'm a little afraid there will be a mutual falling back in love when I finally get in there.
One week ago, the SPCA called me. They had my cat. Problem with that is: I don't have a cat. I do now.
In 2008, I adopted one cat and fostered another to help our new kitty who was too young to be alone. A training wheel kitty, if you will. A wingman. A co-worker met her and she ended up going to live with their family once her job with our kitty was done. I haven't seen this girl since 2008. I was told she died.
Then the SPCA called and said that they had my cat.
I posted a status. I called the personnel department of my work to see if they could contact the last number known for this past coworker. I had signs posted by the grocer in the small rural area where they last lived. The video store called the last number on file for them. I really really tried...thinking they would want their furry family member back.
I started making a contingency plan but I had until today. Today, the family called. My heart soared. Then it sank.
There is now a cat in the laundry room. I have no clue what to do with a cat at this point in my life. There might not be room in this house...where I don't make all of the calls. There might not be room in my future...where I might be away for long periods of time. I'm not sure what room there is...but this story of reunion is kind of amazing and there certainly is room in my heart for a furry love with a story I'll never know but who found it's way back into my life.
Eight and a half pounds of beautiful black furry uncertainty. Let the adventure begin.