Some of you probably think I'm absolutely wacko, but the rapport I had with my cat Chloe was like no other. She was truly unique and she touched my heart in a way no human ever had, until I had children that is. I remember seeing her for the first time and knowing instantly that she had to be mine. But Hubby had other plans. We already had a kitten and having another wasn't on his agenda. So we got in our cars and drove away, leaving her to fend for herself in the wild (okay... the barn) with her littermates. I couldn't stop thinking about her! So I pulled over about 1o minutes down the road and told Hubby that I was going back to get her. That was one of many times I got my stubborn little way when Hubby said otherwise, but he'll admit that I was right this time. Chloe cast an even bigger spell on him; he was absolutely gaa-gaa over her!
This past Labor Day weekend, when we stood over the hole in our backyard to bury her in, we both wept with tremendous grief. I couldn't bear to watch him toss the first shovelful of dirt on her lifeless body so I turned away for a moment, then helped Hubby gingerly prepare the site for the lilac bush & a pretty stone marker we chose as a memorial. For days we went about our daily routine in an oblivious stupor, racked with sadness over the loss of our "child". I'd come home from work hoping that I'd find her curled up on her favorite chair, only to find it empty. Then one day as I was sitting at the computer, I heard her bell! I felt my heart jump as I turned around to look for her. My eyes filled with tears and my heart grew heavy as I realized that one of the boys just accidently bumped the post we hung her collar on. That night as I lay in bed with my youngest, I sobbed in the darkness as beautiful memories of her scrolled in my mind.
Then one day I told my husband that I wanted to get the boys a kitten for Christmas. He knew what I really meant, though... that I want to get a kitten for ME so I could break the misery of grief I was being swallowed by. A few days later, Hubby asked me if we should get two kittens, to which I abruptly replied "NO WAY!" Then later that week, his parents also suggested that I look for a pair of sister for the boys. So I relented, and started thinking that two would be twice as better for my achey breaky heart.
Thus I began desperately seeking the purrfect puffballs for the boys. If I looked early enough, there was no doubt my Christmas plan would work. I had everything all laid out perfectly... how they would arrive on Christmas Day and be presented to the boys in their beautifully decorated boxes, a note attached from Santa explaining to them how Chloe helped him choose them, red ribbons carefully tied around their necks with name tags: Comfort & Joy.
Chloe had always provided the boys comfort in times of hurt & pain, and joy whenever she allowed them to hold her. Now Santa was going deliver what Chloe had always given them; something with tidings of comfort & joy. They just arrived about 9 weeks too early and their names were Pixie (Comfort) & Moxie (Joy). Now our house is again a very happy, joyful, comfortable, humble abode!
Merry Christmas boys .... Love ~ Chloe