For those of you who don't know, I have two cats, and I am their servant. A pair of orange tabbies, brother and sister, who adopted me when they were fourteen weeks old. Luna is the female, and in orange tabby world, females are rare. Archer is the male, and the real boss of the house.
I'd never owned a cat. Always dogs. But five years ago, a series of events led to their arrival.
My neighbor had adopted a new dog, and the cat she'd had for years wasn't taking to it. She told me she was going to give the cat up to a shelter. The thought of a senior cat's odds in a shelter, competing against a room full of sweet little kittens, didn't sit right with me. So I told her I'd take her cat.
Fast forward two weeks, and I got a text from her saying her cat and the dog had become best friends. She wasn't giving the cat up after all. Before I could text back, she followed with, "but don't worry, I have a cat for you," and sent pictures of Archer and Luna huddled together in a furry orange ball. All the other kittens in the litter had found homes. If these two didn't find one soon, they were headed to a shelter.
That didn't sit right with me either. So I thought I'd take one. Then I looked at the pictures again. Every single one, huddled together, never apart. I couldn't be the reason they got split up. And there was a bigger problem anyway: how was I supposed to choose which one adopted me?
So I took them both. Zero kitten experience, two kittens. I wondered if I'd lost my mind. But I knew I wouldn't be able to live with myself if one of them got a home and the other didn't. Best decision I'd made in a long time.
Cats are not the aloof creatures people describe. At least not mine. Both of them want love and attention constantly, and I mean constantly. I'll be sitting at my desk trying to work, and I'll look up to find two sets of enormous eyes staring straight at me, meowing like I've forgotten something important. If that doesn't work, one of them jumps up and starts head-butting my hand until I stop typing and pay attention. There is no ignoring an orange tabby who has decided it's time.
Five years later, they still do what they did in that first photo my neighbor sent me. Huddled together, usually on my desk, usually in my way, always together. I still don't regret not being able to choose.
Until next time,
