I’m a cat person. I love the low key nature of a cats affection; I especially love our cats, who don’t use a litterbox and who no longer sleep on top of my head. Lately I’ve found myself waking up in the middle of the night quite a lot and on my way back to bed I’ve been known to seek out a cat just for a little pet therapy before I go back to sleep.
Last night it came up that Michael and I have been together almost a DECADE which doesn’t seem possible-and that means Moses is almost 7. I’ve fostered tons of cats and kittens, and a long time ago I made peace with the short term nature of my relationship with them. So when Hannah called me from school one day and told me there were girls at the playground trying to sell a litter of kittens, I drove straight there and confiscated four tiny babies from some middle schoolers who were trying to give them to a bunch of 8 year old kids, and quickly got to work preparing them for adoption.
I’m not sure when or how the decision was made that we were keeping one, but somehow we ended up with this:
We named him “kittles” and when Michael heard the name he vetoed it immediately and we settled eventually on Moses. We moved with him three times, including once across the country, a trip during which Mosey would leave his kennel and snuggle me on the back seat of the van while I was laying prone, doing my best to adhere to “strict bedrest” orders in my 6th month of pregnancy.
He’s always been attached to Avery:
Once we thought we were going to lose him when he ate a poisonous lizard but then he pulled through in true warrior fashion.
And now he’s king of the yard, our personal 6 am alarm clock every single day, and still a bedtime companion. Being a farm girl, I’m not one to get completely attached to animals, but I have to say, the longer we know Moses, the more I can’t imagine life without him. Even though I break out in hives whenever I pick him up.
