Written by Stacy Edison
I wasn't exactly ready for another cat. I subscribe to countless rescues, AZ Humane Society, etc., via Facebook. I still browse despite knowing I have no more room for fur children.
In March of 2015, my amazing, sweet, sleek, gorgeous, grey, beloved, 2 year old cat, Rhino, had fallen ill. It was sudden. It was quick. He was diagnosed to have FIP.
He became an emaciated shell of the remarkable specimen he had been. It was agonizing to watch. He was my cuddle baby who had slept next to me the day he entered this family. Nightly, he nestled in my arms. At the discovery of his illness, before real symptoms started, he retreated. The opposite of my package of sunshine. After mere weeks of his initial visit, he was miserable. I had never had to make "the decision". I made and cancelled "that" appointment at least twice within days of each other. He told me he was ready. He crawled, not jumped, crawled into my bed. He had turned into me, not away from me and rested his face onto my hand, outstretched his paw and slept. He was telling me it was time and it was okay. I wasn't ready but he was. The next morning he didn't meow while in the carrier on the way to the vets office. I vividly remember that. He took his last breath on April 13th. Another cat was beyond me.
Cut to mid July 2015, browsing listings for adorable, adoptable cats with no purpose. I come across this square faced, sleek, weepy eyed "older", black kitten. Elmo. My heart sped up. Elmo was on the short list of future kitten names. (I have always named my pets after beloved characters.) It was a sign. He was 7 miles away at Petco. I needed to meet him. He's simply amazing. He's a funny guy that I adore. I wasn't exactly ready for another cat but life said otherwise...