I was so heartbroken when I lost Keaton back in March. I knew I would eventually get another cat, one always seemed to find me. I waited and waited and no strays waltzed into my life. This is odd. I have always, and I mean always had cats. Before now the longest I’d been without one was from the time I moved to Utah to a couple of months after I got married. There was always someone with free kittens within easy reach, or a stray found behind a dumpster at someone’s work, or a cat wandering on to the property but it’s been months.

I finally decided it was time to go looking and where better to look than at the local shelter. I had put off going because I knew I was going to be a mess because I couldn’t take them all home. While I was looking over the pictures on their website I came across a calico described as shy and who had been given the name Danica.

I had to go look. I screwed up my courage. I skipped the mascara. I grabbed the tissues and went.

This is what I found:

Oops, she’s cuddled up with a friend. They didn’t come into the shelter together but made friends while there. This is okay, two adult cats, I’m not opposed to having two cats and they’re already friends.

I went out to fill out the paperwork to find that the formerly empty display cages in the reception area were suddenly filled with several tiny, fluffy kittens.

Well played, animal shelter, well played.