Cat Sat

If you've followed this blog with any infrequency, you know that I loooove aminals.  My druther's have typically leaned toward cats (as they were the pet of choice in previous relationships) and mid-to-large sized dogs, as they're usually amenable to play without the threat of tiny-dog smooshing under foot or tripping my primal rage factor with their yippy-yap.

After the loss of my roommate's (and mine by proxy...I guess?) kitteh, the noble Georgie- we've refrained from physically owning a pet since late 2010.  And, and this is about as honest as I'll get here on this blaug, I think that the stillness/lack of activity/lack of singing to the pet/lack of something to care for has had a palpable affect on my home.  Not a hugely depressive fug.  More like a petless ennui. 

Regular readers will also know that I've taken responsibility for dog-sitting my BFF's baby Deuce.   I'm DWD (Down with Dogsitting) Deuce in particular, because the dog is supremely chill.  And yes, if you're reading into it- I probably won't dogsit your puppies at my casa since there is really no way they can compare to Mr. Grumbles.  He's just. That. Perfect.

Readers also may remember our 3 day fiasco with attempting to foster kittehs, of which they went back to the owner, and then we were told we'd get them again, and then we wouldn't get them again, and then I sort of put my foot down and said that the energy I was putting into "will they come or won't they come" was too much, and if it was a "sure thing" then I'd be fine with pet-fostering.  I'm fine with it, but it tests my selective impatience and altruism equally.

Without getting into detail, a family member of my roommate had some health issues that necessitated a move into a place that would be able to provide better care/comfort on an ongoing basis while they recuperated and adjusted to (mild) assisted living.  He (the roommate) has been spending considerable personal time being their for her, and it should be noted and commended that it was through this kindness we came to be in possession of Fat Harvey D'Arcy. 

And it should be here that you've already figured out the following:  It was to be a temporary housing for him until she moved in and then we'd (keep) him on an ongoing basis for however long it took.  For my part, opening my house to her beloved pet/child was the least I could do.  And so we found ourselves with cat- albeit a very, very large cat last December.  And after about a month of getting to know him, helping him "work out" and diet, breaking out the lint brushes that found their way to the back of the linen closet, singing to the cat, and feeling the familiar (very very heavy) weight as he jumped into bed- I was mildly smitten.

As much as I assured the roommate that Geor---whoops (I do that a lot) Harvey can stay as long as he wants- and if his cousin wasn't able to care for him we could take over duties?  The roommate was mildly steadfast in his assertion that he would definitely be going back because he was basically like her kid.  (He told me that her 1st words while driving her to her 1st night in her new digs were "When is Harvey coming back?") 

And so- long story short:  After a run of loving up what amounts to a purring, wheezy, moody, furry spiral-baked ham, he will be going home to be with his owner.  And while my dark clothes are grateful, I think there'll be a large fuzzy ham shaped void in our home as we muster through the rest of winter. 

Au Revoir, Mssr. D'Arcy.  It's been fun while we had you.

(PS- To my BFF A.L. ?  Yes, I'll be able to dog sit again.  You're welcome.)