As many of you know by now, two weeks ago, I got a kitten, Violet. She's all black, teeny-tiny, and (mostly) adorable. When I got her, she was just barely 2lbs, and 8 weeks old. Now, she's two weeks older, and definitely bigger, but still in the 2lb range. The humane society information we got with her says she was found alone under a porch. Which is just really sad, especially for a kitten who was only a few weeks old and could not fend for herself! We're guessing she was the kitten of a feral or outdoor cat, and since she's SO tiny, was probably the runt, and rejected by the mother. I'm glad someone found her and brought her to the humane society, though, so that we could adopt her and love her!
Violet (also known lovingly as Jingle Butt, cause she has a bell on her collar and can be a little bit of a butt at times) is my cat, but she's living with Andy, and his 14 year old Maine Coon, Smokey. So she's really our cat. We got her together. I had told Andy about her, and said I was thinking about getting her, but then decided I just couldn't afford the pet deposit and all the stuff I needed for her right now. So I decided not to get her. But the next day, Andy said we should get her, and he would keep her with Smokey, and we could buy all the stuff together. I went for it, and my cousin Valerie, who had been fostering Violet for the humane society in Boulder, put her on hold for us.
We got the call that Violet had been spayed, and was ready for us to pick her up, on a Monday, and I made plans to get her the next day. But that night, I started getting scared. I didn't have a panic attack, but I did spend a decent portion of the evening crying and dealing with unpleasant memories.
Last summer, I talked to my ex about getting a puppy (before he was my ex, of course), as a way to help deal with the depression brought about by the Duggar scandals, and exacerbated by my temporary joblessness. We had always planned on each getting a puppy after we got married, but I felt like I needed one sooner. He thought it was a good idea, so I rescued little Rue. She was a lab mixed with multiple other breeds, and was full of fleas and ticks and worms when I got her. The people who I got her from had a farm and tons of dogs that they didn't spay, neuter, or keep away from each other, and they all stayed outside. She still has a scar on her leg from being kept outside without much care.
I got her, and immediately, she helped with my depression. When I woke up the day the ex broke up with me, I had realized that I really hadn't felt very depressed in the three days I'd had her. She was adorable, and got me out of bed in the morning, and gave me something to do. Well, the ex came over during his lunch break that day and broke up with me. As I have said in other places, no one- not even his best friends- saw that ever happening. I was completely blindsided. I tried to keep Rue, but at the end of the day, with all of my health issues, I couldn't keep her by myself. It's why I had never gotten a puppy in my 10 years of living alone. If I had known he was thinking about breaking up with me (which he was, when he told me getting her was a good idea), I never would have gotten her. After three weeks, I had to give her up. I left her with a friend in Colorado (who has since lost Rue to a breakup as well), and leaving her broke my heart. It was awful. And I still want my damn dog back all the time.
Things are different with Andy. Everyone sees it. But getting a kitten to keep at his house scared the crap out of me. I was so afraid he was going to break up with me, and I was going to lose another pet. That night, I really and truly wanted to back out and decide not to get her. But I knew the only thing making me want to do that was fear. So I made myself go to bed, and managed to sleep better than I thought I would.
The next day, I headed to Boulder after work, and picked up Violet. She is so precious. Usually, anyway. She loves pouncing, jumping, running, ambushing poor Smokey, and sleeping on faces or throats. Yes, ON the face. Foreheads and cheeks seem like ideal beds to her. And so do throats, though I find that one somewhat panic inducing. I'm so glad I decided to get her, despite the fear. She can be a little demanding, she loves to play with a playmate, rather than alone.When Smokey is done with her, she decides to try and get one of us to play with her. Heaven forbid we may be busy! She definitely attached to me immediately. Andy says she looks for me when I'm not there.
Sometimes, I still get scared I'll lose her. That something will happen with Andy and me, and I'll lose my cat in the process. But some things are out of my hands. I can't control everything. Maybe I'll lose her, but I probably won't. I can't let fear keep me from living my life. That's the reason I have this blog in the first place.
Violet (also known lovingly as Jingle Butt, cause she has a bell on her collar and can be a little bit of a butt at times) is my cat, but she's living with Andy, and his 14 year old Maine Coon, Smokey. So she's really our cat. We got her together. I had told Andy about her, and said I was thinking about getting her, but then decided I just couldn't afford the pet deposit and all the stuff I needed for her right now. So I decided not to get her. But the next day, Andy said we should get her, and he would keep her with Smokey, and we could buy all the stuff together. I went for it, and my cousin Valerie, who had been fostering Violet for the humane society in Boulder, put her on hold for us.
We got the call that Violet had been spayed, and was ready for us to pick her up, on a Monday, and I made plans to get her the next day. But that night, I started getting scared. I didn't have a panic attack, but I did spend a decent portion of the evening crying and dealing with unpleasant memories.
Last summer, I talked to my ex about getting a puppy (before he was my ex, of course), as a way to help deal with the depression brought about by the Duggar scandals, and exacerbated by my temporary joblessness. We had always planned on each getting a puppy after we got married, but I felt like I needed one sooner. He thought it was a good idea, so I rescued little Rue. She was a lab mixed with multiple other breeds, and was full of fleas and ticks and worms when I got her. The people who I got her from had a farm and tons of dogs that they didn't spay, neuter, or keep away from each other, and they all stayed outside. She still has a scar on her leg from being kept outside without much care.
I got her, and immediately, she helped with my depression. When I woke up the day the ex broke up with me, I had realized that I really hadn't felt very depressed in the three days I'd had her. She was adorable, and got me out of bed in the morning, and gave me something to do. Well, the ex came over during his lunch break that day and broke up with me. As I have said in other places, no one- not even his best friends- saw that ever happening. I was completely blindsided. I tried to keep Rue, but at the end of the day, with all of my health issues, I couldn't keep her by myself. It's why I had never gotten a puppy in my 10 years of living alone. If I had known he was thinking about breaking up with me (which he was, when he told me getting her was a good idea), I never would have gotten her. After three weeks, I had to give her up. I left her with a friend in Colorado (who has since lost Rue to a breakup as well), and leaving her broke my heart. It was awful. And I still want my damn dog back all the time.
Things are different with Andy. Everyone sees it. But getting a kitten to keep at his house scared the crap out of me. I was so afraid he was going to break up with me, and I was going to lose another pet. That night, I really and truly wanted to back out and decide not to get her. But I knew the only thing making me want to do that was fear. So I made myself go to bed, and managed to sleep better than I thought I would.
The next day, I headed to Boulder after work, and picked up Violet. She is so precious. Usually, anyway. She loves pouncing, jumping, running, ambushing poor Smokey, and sleeping on faces or throats. Yes, ON the face. Foreheads and cheeks seem like ideal beds to her. And so do throats, though I find that one somewhat panic inducing. I'm so glad I decided to get her, despite the fear. She can be a little demanding, she loves to play with a playmate, rather than alone.When Smokey is done with her, she decides to try and get one of us to play with her. Heaven forbid we may be busy! She definitely attached to me immediately. Andy says she looks for me when I'm not there.
Sometimes, I still get scared I'll lose her. That something will happen with Andy and me, and I'll lose my cat in the process. But some things are out of my hands. I can't control everything. Maybe I'll lose her, but I probably won't. I can't let fear keep me from living my life. That's the reason I have this blog in the first place.
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