Annifursary

Four years ago today, I was ready.

I was ready a second cat into my heart and home. Ready to give Millie some company during my long days at work, and ready for the financial responsibility of doubling the annual vet bills. I had filled out an online application with Animal Friends Connection and spoken on the phone with Marian, one of their adoption coordinators. She had invited me to come to the local PetCo the next morning--a Saturday--to see some of their adoptable cats.

I went to see one of the Twilight movies--the first one?--that morning, then eagerly drove to PetCo on Pacific Avenue. I was convinced I'd adopt an adult girl, but we all know what happened. A male kitten wrapped me around his paw and that night, Harley Dude came crashing into my apartment (literally--he tried to attack the "other" orange kitten and ran head-first into my mirrored closet doors), my life, and my heart. My life was never to be the same.

Before long, he'd destroyed my furniture, but established a lovely rapport with Millie. He went from skinny youngster to chubby adult. He meowed like a girl, wreaked havoc, and cuddled like a pro.

Six years ago today, I met him. One month ago yesterday, I lost him.

If you had told me that day, four years ago, as I cuddled a small orange lover-boy that purred like a Harley Davidson in the Stockton PetCo, that I'd only get four years with him, and that I'd lose him young, in a terrible way, would I have put him back in the cage and chosen a cat that would get a longer life? I'm not entirely sure. It hurts like hell to lose any beloved pet, especially when they are so young and vital. But having known the crazy, wonderful purrsonality of Harley Dude, I can say with absolute certainty now that I wouldn't trade one minute of my time with him--not even the times I wanted to sell him to the lowest bidder--for anything.

This week I sent off Christmas cards to both AFC and to FieldHaven, a local cat rescue group, with modest donations. I don't have much to give, but I feel compelled to give something. To FieldHaven, I specified that my money be put in their Tenth Life Club fund--if they could have, and if it would have saved Harley, they may have used some of that funding to help me pay for surgery. In future, it will help another cat not die too young. In my cards, I told them, briefly, that this is to honor a sweet little dude named Harley, who died too young but is certainly not forgotten.

I keep marching forward. Writing this makes me cry even as I acknowledge with a smile a happier annifursary coming next week--when Millie and I celebrate 13 years since the day Mom and Dad surprised me with a little torbie girl who ended up following me everywhere (except England). Soon enough, I'll be out on my own again, and I will no doubt bring another cat or two into my heart and home--probably two because I'm feeling compelled to get littermates next time. Crazy Cat Lady? Maybe...

Happy Annifursary, Little Dude. I miss you.


From his first night in his forever home: