You had me at “psychotic joy”

My friend Beth B. talked several weeks ago about the psychotic joy a kitten would bring to our home. The day we went to get him I texted her that: “You had me at psychotic.”

Hubby and I had a responsible, considered conversation about getting a new cat. We were clear that: we both wanted a second cat; we thought Candy would accept a kitten; we agreed that we wanted to pick a cat based SOLELY on personality (how they responded to us) and not gender or looks; we wanted a rescue animal; and we thought about our furniture, our carpet, and our curtains: there was nothing we weren’t willing to have to replace in a few years when their most destructive phase was over.

But actually bringing Scout into our family was something of a rushed affair. A woman we know had Messaged us images from a litter here in Lansing on a Friday and I thought about it over the weekend. Hubby was leaving the timing of a new cat up to me. On Monday morning I asked him what he would think about going to see that litter the following weekend. He agreed. I texted our friend, and she texted back apologetically that the foster mom was taking the litter to the Humane Society THAT MORNING. “No, No!!” I texted back, “What’s her number?”

I talked to the foster mom who was willing to wait a day. She was a lovely woman who’d taken the litter under her wing after finding a place in her heart (and back yard) for the pregnant, feral mama cat. Hubby and I went by after work and the rest is history.

Scout is a wonderful animal. He sleeps on the bed (and some nights right on top of me!). He doesn’t rush the door – so far he’s happy just to chill in the master bedroom, which is convenient. And except for his first night, he hasn’t woken me up crying in the wee hours. So far he’s a bit timid but I hope he’ll warm up to strangers as he’s exposed to more people. It may be that thrice daily med dosing that is indisputably unpleasant!

But mainly? He loves me. With the love that only a kitten can bring to your life. A simple love. A love that brings psychotic joy as they’re chewing on your slippers or phone card.