It took a while to move on after putting Guy Noir to sleep. Picking up his kitty paw print was hard. It actually still sits on my bookcase with his old collar (that he actually never liked but looked fantastic with it). Every time I look at it, I’m a little bit sad. Actually, let me be truthful, whenever I have to explain to people that I’ve adopted three cats but I only have two, I start to get that same sad feeling I had the day we took him to the vet. I sit there and remember how we took him with his favorite blanket. I remember how he purred and kneaded the blanket and butted heads with us before we left the room. I’m actually tearing up now. My point though is that no matter how much time passes I think I’ll always be saddened by the memory of having to put little Guy to sleep. I have to say that it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
All of that said, I don’t regret having Guy or taking care of him or putting him to sleep. We made all the right decisions in trying to give him a comfortable, loving kitty life.
After several weeks we decided that Pippa (not to mention the two of us) had moped enough. So after breaking the news to Jeanie (who we had adopted both Guy and Pippa from) we broached the subject of adopting another boy kitten. Jeanie, who was I think equally heartbroken as we were, was a complete sweetheart and offered to help us adopt a second cat and without the additional costs. We looked EVERYWHERE for the perfect little boy when we both realized that we were looking for Guy all over again. Needless to say, we weren’t going to find him and it was useless trying. Instead, we ended up at the place furthest from the environment through which we originally adopted Guy and Pippa. Jeanie directed us to the Caswell County Animal Shelter. It was a sad little place where the kittens were literally caged. You could tell that the volunteers there were so sad and made so much effort to make the lives of their little charges better. We petted, played with, and snuggled endless boy kittens. I was starting to get worried that we were going to leave without a cat. Part of me wanted to save all of them, but we could only take one home so we had to find the perfect one. I thought we might have to go home and think about it when the lady at the shelter walked out of back room holding “Dart.” Dart was evidently due for his playtime and he wasn’t really even on her radar to show to us. But when Ben held him and he started purring, we were both goners. So we left that day with Dart the kitten.
Dart was renamed multiple times in the car and when he got home. Several of his name variations were: sherlock, skippy, skippy jon, and fritz. We settled on Rambo for a day before deciding that didn’t work either. Finally we decided that this little man was definitely a Louis (pronounced frenchyfied).
When we brought him home, Pippa was much more blase about the whole thing but Louis was completely rambunctious. Finally free of a metal cage, the little black and white kitten ran back and forth across the apartment with boundless energy while Pippa watched perplexed. When he hopped up to her aggressively with his back arched, she was shocked but took it in stride by batting him to the ground with her paw and stalking off. Point made, Pippa.
They are quite the pair now. They snuggle together and play together. Sometimes I think his idea of snuggling is a little bit different from hers though. Hers: let me hold you and groom you. His: let me flop on top of you and bite your neck. Well….I’m sure it’s just a miscommunication!