We haven't even gotten Bing's ashes back yet and we'll already starting to talk about a kitten.
Bill and I agree that we don't need a kitten. But we also agree that our entire relationship has been based on what we want with little regard for our true needs. So why change now? (Real mature, huh? But it kinda works for us, so who are we to complain?)
We're all so sad and we miss our kitty so much. Click here and scroll to the bottom to read Bill's tribute to our Bitty B — beware it'll make your eyes leak.
I know there is no replacement for Bing. I had Bing before I had kids, back when pets held the key to my heart. Now, we still love our pets but they are our pets and our kids are our kids. It's different.
I've been lavishing our cats (and our friend's cats, any cats I can get my hands on) with chin scritches and kisses. They seem sympathetic but also concerned, like it might be their turn to take the car ride of no return.
Their unwillingness to be the object of my guilt and grief has led me to carrying the dog around. She loves it, of course, because she always acts like we never pay her any attention. But carrying a 20-pound dog Italian greyhound is akin to like cradling a bundle of sticks and twigs that has a tongue which is always read for a French kiss.
Last night I brought a box home from work. When Margaret saw it, she cried, "Is there a kitten in there?"
It remains to be seen if a box full o' kitten will arrive at the Casa de Goofus this Christmas.
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