I think I may have fallen in love today. His name is Nick, and I met him when I went out for lunch. He’s a pretty big guy, he’s got reddish hair and golden brown eyes, and he seems very sweet. I’ve been thinking about him all afternoon. This is Nick:
Well, it's not really Nick because the adoption website didn't have an actual picture of him, but this is what he looks like except he has less of a green and more of a golden color to his eyes than this cat.
When I go to PetSmart to get supplies for my bettas, I always look at the birds and the hamsters and guinea pigs. I also always go by the cat adoption area to play with them through the plexiglass with the feathers-on-a-stick toy they have lying there. However, I never have a problem leaving them behind. I never leave thinking, “Oh, I want another cat.” Today, though, this big guy was there. He was chillin’ like a villain, but he wasn’t so aloof that the feathers didn’t catch his fancy. There was just something about him that I liked. I squatted down on the floor and talked to him through the little holes at the bottom of the plexiglass. He talked back to me through the holes. I read his history card. His name is Nick. He’s an orange Maine Coon cat. He was returned to the rescue after being adopted before because he apparently “needed too much love”. He’s 1 ½ years old. He would prefer a stable, quiet home without other cats and dogs. Of course, he’s neutered and his shots are all up-to-date.
UGH! I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. I’ve never thought of myself as a cat person, even though Monster and I lived together for 18 years. I swore that I would probably never get a cat again after Monster died, and not because I just wasn't ready. I just really am not a cat person. And I never wanted a male cat. But, do I want another cat? Am I just feeling sentimental about Monster? Or does Nick belong with me? Seems I’ve got a lot of thinking to do this weekend.