Yesterday, I did not bring a cat home.
This was… tricky.
One of my co-workers brought four kittens into work. They were *tiny*, and my only picture is pretty blurry, but they’d been abandoned under her porch and she was taking them to the SPCA.
You could hear them (down the hall, around the corner) in my office, and their little squeaks and cries just hit me in the gut.
They weren’t cuddly; they were scared and crying and altogether not interested in bonding, and that was probably the best thing, because, well.
We have three cats.
Three is enough.
At 5:30 in the morning, trying to get from the “dining room”* down a step into the kitchen to get the cat food while impeded by all three – three is almost too many.
Four would be, uh. Four would be loud, and I’m not certain they wouldn’t think the tiny thing was a prey animal, and Merit and Theo already don’t get along that well and –
and adorable kitten.
So adorable. So loud. So tiny.
It was really, really hard. I mean, I seriously considered it. I asked T. (He said no. Three was enough.). I sent him a blurry photo. I listened to the kitties squeak some more. I thought about plans for bottle-feeding kittens and if I could convince Oli, at least, that Tiny Loud Thing was family.
I asked T again.
But I did not bring a kitten home yesterday. And that was probably for the best.
(the eensy claws! The angry little meow!)
* I mean, it’s obviously designed to be the dining room. It had a chandelier when we moved in and everything. It’s T’s office/my hang-out-with-T office, and the place where the guest bed currently sits.