About a year after my divorce, I had another revelation. It was ” I can get a cat! ” My entire marriage my ex-husband mentioned, at every turn, that he hated cats. So when I had the idea of owning a cat it was another scale of shame and unhappiness falling away from my battered self esteem.

So off I went to Petsmart to pick out a shelter kitten.  The first cage I went by I saw a lovely gray and white one. The lady pointed out she had a heart shaped marking on her leg.  She then pointed out that her brother was with her too.  Looking back I believe she deployed used sales person techniques to pull on my heartstrings. My children were grown and I didn’t have anyone to nurture anymore.  I took both of them.

On the way home the female was lovely, sleeping in the container and the male escaped, went under my seat and had diarrhea.  They both were being treated for worms because they had been rescued from a Motel 8 or 6 or something like that, but the male also had parasites. 

I thought I would be safe not having a crazy cat, but I wasn’t, damn, he was here, Zemi.  I hate “cutesy” names like when people name all of there 6 children beginning with J’s (psychotic) Jennifer, Justin, Julie, you get the picture.  I tried really hard to not do that with these two kittens, but couldn’t.  They are Zemi and Zoe (insert rolling eyes emoji” again.

I remember one morning leaving my house and it struck me.  I’m going to have these cats for 15 years!

Oh, it’s not over…more to come about these two felines in following posts.

Has anyone asked exactly what “Crazy Cat Lady” can often mean? Ask no more…they are the crazy ones!