On New Year’s Day we unexpectedly had to put down our family cat. She was only six years old so it was a shock. My family was understandably devastated. While my daughters, ages two and four, perhaps didn’t quite ‘get’ it, they recognized the loss and it began to affect their behaviour, particularly my oldest.
It took a while to sink in but she missed our family pet and asked us when we would get a new cat. My husband and I discussed it at length trying to decide if we, and the girls, were truly ready. Finally we began to check local shelters for kittens.
I wasn’t expecting much. January isn’t usually known as prime kitten season and if any showed up they are gone within a day or two. But we lucked out and discovered our local shelter was getting a new group of kittens in the next day so we made plans to go visit. The girls were thrilled to play with so many kittens at once but we had a job to do: determine which, if any, of these furry little beings would be suitable as a new addition to our family.
Eventually, it came down to two: an adorable little orange tabby and a rough and tumble grey tabby. My youngest daughter and I were leaning towards the orange one, my husband’s heart was on the grey one, and our oldest daughter made it crystal clear what the decision should be: “Well, I would be happy with the orange kitten. And I would be happy with the grey kitten. But I would be happiest with both kittens.” They both came home with us.
It hasn’t been the easiest adjustment. Kittens are much like newborn babies: they eat a lot, they need tons of attention, and their sleep schedules don’t gel with the rest of the family. To add to the insanity my youngest throws a fit if one of the kittens comes onto her bed when she is sleeping or going to sleep yet we aren’t allowed to close her door to keep them out.
Needless to say there have been a few nights of little to no sleep, where my husband and I question whether getting these kittens was the best course of action. Yet just as we are ready to toss the furry little hellions out the door (figuratively speaking, we have coyotes in our neighborhood) we both end up on the couch, frustrated and exhausted, with a purring bundle of fur on our laps. They are lucky they are so cute.
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