Warm fuzzies

Today, I went to take photos of pets getting their photo taken with Santa.  Still follow?  It was a fund-raiser for the local humane society.  While several pooches took their turn on Santa's lap, there was a carrier nearby with an adorable orange and white kitten. The kitten sat calmly, just taking in all the action.  I couldn't resist her, of course, so I petted her through the carrier's tiny openings. 

The humane society volunteers told me she was available for adoption, and, sure enough, a family came to look at her while I was there.  The mom came in first, looking at her and petting her.  Then she went to get her two daughters.  The three of them took the kitten into a small bathroom nearby so they could take the kitten out of the carrier and play with her a little.  Within the hour, the kitten had a name ("Moxie") and a new home.  It was a great sight to see.

It reminded me of when I brought home my Cleo. I adopted her from a privately-owned no-kill shelter in central Texas. I went to the shelter to look at a different cat I'd seen online, but Cleo reached through the bars of her cage when I walked by.  I never even made it to the other cat's cage.  Cleo was mine.  The woman who ran the shelter actually cried a little as we loaded Cleo into my car awhile later and I drove her to her forever home. 

Well, not really.  I've moved four times since then, but she's been with me the whole time. So has her "sister," Casey, who I adopted six months after I found Cleo. The two cats have very distinct personalities, and I couldn't imagine life without them.

I don't love cleaning the litter box. It has moved past sorting laundry as my LEAST favorite household chore.

I wish I could have nicer furniture without worrying about them tearing it up. I've accepted the fact that I won't.

I wish being a cat owner didn't have such a stigma attached to it (crazy cat lady, anyone?). 

But none of that really matters at the end of a stressful week, when I'm sitting on the couch with Cleo curled up next to me.  I love my furry children, and even though they're considered "rescues," they have saved me too.