We had to put our wonderful, gorgeous cat Taz to sleep on the day after Valentine's. Awful, awful day. We waited as long as we could stand (seeing him in corners, opening the door to let him in, never putting his food away) until we cracked last Friday.
I've spent days in a black hole of kitty love photographing and baby-talking with our new little furball. Her name was Angel at the shelter but we changed it to Archie. Before you say anything, we tried a zillion names but for some reason the name of a adolescent, two-timing teenaged boy is the one that stuck. What are you going to do?
Let me sing the praises of our local animal shelter for a moment. It's the perfect way to "shop" for a cat. The only way that should be allowed. They have what they call "cat condos"-- rooms where just a few cats at a time wander freely. You can go in these rooms and interact with the cats for as long as you want. A guy I talked to said he was having a bad day and was just there for "therapy" not to take one home. There are chairs where you can sit and watch the cats play or pick them up to see whether or not they like being handled. This way you aren't stuck with a "crappy" cat because the only interaction you had with them at the pound was sticking your finger into its tiny cage. I carried Archie (and her friends) around for an hour before I inexplicably started crying with her in my arms and thus the decision to take her home was made.
So there it is. We have a new family member and she is amazing.