If you go back, way back to my very first livejournal entires, you can see wee little never, in her early twenties, living in the Concrete Bunker on Folsom Street, posting about her tiny black kittens, Ada and Perl. What you don't see in those entries is that I am in the grip of a black depression, and J has bought me these kittens because he
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In the end, the burden we shoulder for helping them die with peace and without pain is worth it for the love they've given us but that doesn't make it much easier. Paloma is my Prozac and I'm going to go and hug her now.
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J was ready for a new cat after about a week. He has felt strongly that Tesla is my cat, even though Tesla is quite cuddly with him. I can't blame J for wanting a kitten that will love him more that it loves me. Sadly it is the nadir of kitten season, so even though SFSPCA seems to go through 30-40 cats a week, all-black male kittens in the 3-6 month range are rare and someone always snatches them up before we can come see them. Hopefully when David is ready, there will be plentiful kitty options.
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This time I think we're going to get an older rescue, probably from the cat cafe here in Oakland. There's a cute orange tabby with a malformed paw that I keep nudging David to go meet. I'd love to get a kitten, but I don't think Paloma would be super thrilled and I'd rather have a cat that matches her energy.
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