A New Cat to Be Crazy About

 Hey, everyone. Here's my cat. For the purpose of this here blog, Imma call him the Tacocat.

Longtime readers may recall that I previously had two cats - one was the Siamese Kitten, who was my constant companion and official Best Cat Ever. The other was the Chongers, the sweet tuxedo cat who came to me and Precocious Daughter in a strange and wonderful way right before the pandemic started (hey! remember the pandemic?) and was the bestest boy until his sudden and untimely passing in February 2023.

Two months after the Chongers left us, and not long after I did my last post before my extended hiatus, the Siamese Kitten left us. She was 16 1/2, and she was just an old girl who tried her best to go on, but I made the decision to let her go before she could suffer.

In the space of two months I went from cat-mom of two to empty nester. Coming on the heels of PDaughter moving to New York to pursue her dream of not living in Texas, it was a lot to get used to. I do firmly believe that the Siamese Kitten's tiny little ghost still lives with me, but that's another post. And anyway, a ghost-cat isn't the same as an actual live cat. For one thing, ghost cats don't wrap their needle-tipped paws around your arm and bite you for no damn reason at all.

Not my cat, but definitely the same vibe.

So I got used to living really, truly alone. I also got used to other things, like not having to sweep cat hair out of every corner of every room every day. And not constantly stepping on little pebbles of cat litter. Also, not having to haul big jugs of said litter from the car to my apartment every few weeks. Ooh, and not having bowls of food and water on the floor to attract bugs.

No, look, I was totes sad. But the point is, life goes on, and we all adapt to change. And I just wasn't emotionally ready to welcome a new kitty into my life immediately after losing two in a short space of time. The other stuff was just gravy. Sad, non-messy gravy.

Well, a year went by, and PDaughter decided I had had enough time to grieve. She came home for a visit, ostensibly to see family and friends, but with a very ulterior motive. On a Saturday morning, she marched me out to the car (it wasn't much of a march, I was a bit hungover) and drove me to the local no-kill shelter. It was time, she said. Time for a new cat.

And there, the Tacocat found us. My resistance was low (again, hungover), and he looked deep in my eyes and said, "There's an easy mark."

Look at this photogenic bastard.

So they boxed him up and we took him home. 

His first day home.
He had just peed in a closet.

You guys, I've always wanted a tabby cat. So it's pretty lucky that he is. It certainly wasn't his personality that drew me to him. That came later, and it went hard. More on that in future posts. 

For now, I just wanted to introduce my Drunkards to this stripey boy who has totally won my heart. 

I may write a poem about him. You've been warned.