Ah, the dreaded first post. Since I am prone to procrastination (and as if to prove it, this post sat waiting like this for the past… 6 hours?), I thought I would fill it with pictures and a brief intro of my pets.
The first of which is this little (read: gigantic) charmer:
She was an overweight cat (16 lbs at the time of these photos) with an obsession of egg cartons. We’d finish a dozen eggs, drop the carton on the kitchen floor… She’d bolt in from the living room, scratch it until she was content it smelled like her, then owned it forever.
We never gave up trying to help her lose weight. She’s a naturally active cat, and voluntarily ate 1/3 cup of food a day. Miraculously (tragically?), over the three years we had her, she went from 8 lbs to 16. Explain that, science.
To her credit, she really owned cat obesity too. I’d like to hesitantly suggest that she was proud of who she was – a fat cat who was so soft, that she’d violently land a paw on a fly, lift it to peek at her catch, only to watch it fly away unscathed. No lie, I saw it myself. Like, 10 times.
I am ashamed to say though, that Briskit no longer lives with me (story for another day). She is at my fiance’s mother’s house now. On paper she’s not my cat anymore, but will forever be my cat – I’m sure you know what I mean.
Last October, I started to foster a dog. I’ve always wanted a dog. We (fiance and I) held back because Briskit didn’t like dogs. But now she’s gone, and I was finished my academic studies. It was the perfect lull in our lives to test drive my fantasies of dog ownership, and it was the perfect situation to do it no-strings-attached (I didn’t want to repeat my mistake with Briskit). Of course, the strings were that you and the dog were most absolutely going to fall in love with each other.
I wasn’t supposed to fall in love. It was only going to be a 4 month adventure. But this sighing pile of dog has heartworms, and isn’t taking well to her medication. We have inadvertently been blessed with a prolonged foster period, allowing me time to stressfully flip-flop between deciding to adopt her, and not.
No matter what though, even if on paper she ends up not my dog anymore, she will forever be my dog.
I’m sure you know what I mean.