Tomorrow

Last night *something* told me to go look up adoptable pets at the county pound.  Last I heard, they had horrific kill rates.  You can imagine how a black cat might fare. 

You know me, I'm partial to "undercats".  Black cats are misunderstood, feared, and murdered at a horrifying rate because no one wants to love them. 

Like I told the vet, years ago, indicating blind, stroked-out Ron in his wheelchair "I married him the way he is now".  I understand, and relate, to the unloved and unwanted. 

Had Ron and I been "normal" I have no doubt we would have had half a dozen, adopted, special needs children. 

I found adorable black kittens, one in particular really spoke to me.  She had a lot of cattitude.  She's a tiny little furball but adorable. 

From what I read online, ideally I will get a smaller, younger, cat.  I told Ron, I'd like to go to the pound. 

He said OK and made the trip.  He is really helping me grieve.  He's telling me it's OK to cry, understands when I do cry, tells me it's OK to miss Bubba because he was awesome.  I need to hear that right now. 

After Ron made the trip, I found out it's a sponsored adoption day.  A corporation will pay all the adoption fees tomorrow; if we qualify. 

We're homeowners.  We are experienced cat lovers.  I have 4, count it, 4 litter boxes.  I know how to indroduce cats. 

So, we'll see.  I don't plan to go in there and "find a cat".  Rather, I plan to let the cat find me.  We will all know when that happens, I think. 

Please pray, though.  I'm still hurting a lot.