Monday, November 23, 2009
Claddagh and Cillian are Cilling Me ;)
We've had some cat dramas around here. My daughter and I aren't very good at this. We inherited Claddagh -a maybe 6-month old cat when he found us. Seriously, he is the best kitty in all the land. He gives hugs. How many cats do that?
At the time that we got him, Victoria lived with me. Very shortly thereafter, though, she found a sweet little house just perfect for her. She moved out, but no worries. We figured Claddagh would have two mommies; he would stay with me for a while and then with her for a while. Claddagh is quite a large cat. I am assured that he's not fat, but he's big. His brain, however, is the size of a walnut. This having two mommies thing was just too hard for him. He needed to have one home.
At the time that Victoria and I confronted this, Claddagh was with her. Along came a second kitty. Simone. Simone is 12 weeks old, and TINY. Perfect. Now Victoria can have one, and I can have another. We separated them.
Claddagh pined. We should have separated them immediately, apparently. And, we now know, loyalty can fit inside a walnut-sized brain. That, or it resides in the heart. So, here comes Cillian, an 8-week-old little warrior. He fits easily into my palm, and my hands aren't what you would call large. He bounces everywhere, rides on the Roomba, hides under tiny little spaces, and terrorizes me and Claddagh both. I'm exhausted. I have this nice, large house, and yet we are all three, at this moment, in one chair. Claddagh is grooming Cillian. Cillian is snoring, exhausted for the time being. And I'm trying not to get scooched off onto the floor.
But my life is that much bigger. (I'm done now, though. Two cats are entirely enough for me.)