Well, as some of you know, one of our cats recently moved to the Los Gatos hills (really, her ashes are scattered there), leaving our wonderous wee cat, Shasta, behind. Shasta only knew Delilah. She came to us as a kitten from a calico mama and a ferril cat dad. She really took to my husband when we picked her out, which made me mad because she was supposed to be MY cat. But, we still showed up the next day to take her home, helping out a work-mate of mine who didn’t want another litter of strays in her backyard.
Shasta REALLY loved Delilah. Delilah didn’t want anything to do with Shasta. I ended up locking them in the bathroom and walking away one afternoon hoping they’d figure it out.
And, they did.
It’s not like they were inseparable, but they tolerated each other. And, on good days, they enjoyed sleeping on the bed together, bringing way too many mice into the various places we lived, and chasing things about – mainly each other.
When Delilah’s time came, it was hard enough on the hubs and I. But, seriously, the minute we walked in the house after putting Delilah down, the noise that came out of Shasta was the worst thing I think I’ve ever heard.
I cried so hard that night listening to her yeowling and yeowling while walking about the house.
Well, it’s been a couple of months now, and the husband (surprise!) is the one ready for another cat. I’m still a bit reluctant. You see, even though Shasta isn’t really a big people person, or a lap-cat, or a well-behaved-not-peeing-in-the-corner-when-pissed cat, she’s kinda my cat and I’m worried she’s going to tear another cat to pieces or feel we are trying to replace her.
Yesterday the husband made us stop and look at rescue kittens. I was totally against it. Then, I started understanding. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea (yeah, mom, I know you aren’t excited about this…).
I am not sure how many more days I can take coming home to a cat that hasn’t left the bed, a cat that isn’t eating, a cat that only visits us at night for a short amount of time to then lurks back to the bed to sleep. A cat that happily spent her days playing in the yard, bringing us snakes and defending our yard, which now stares at the walls.
Over the last few weeks, I have shut Shasta out of the house enduring her horrid meowing to be let back in, tossed about countless amounts of string, bottle caps, catnip toys and treats only to watch the child pick the neglected things up and play with them. I’ve offered new food, tasty cooked vitals, and even (gasp) milk.
Well, what would you do?!
The damn cat needs a new friend.
Anyone have advice for me?