Sunday, November 8, 2009

Friday, was a very bad day for me. I don't think I went for more than about an hour at a time not in tears over the loss of Ashley. It had been building up for the past week and I just could no longer contain it. I tried, I really did, but I was miserable. I felt guilty over wanting another pet so soon, as though I haven't done her justice. I know I made the right decision with the euthanasia, it helped ease her transition into death.

Saturday morning, we had made an appointment to see a local about some labrador puppies he had for sale. We drove over to his house and were confronted with a very walled in domicile. The entire place was fenced, including where he parked his cars and there were a the parent dogs barking at us frenetically. L didn't have the man's phone number on him, as his phone was out of battery so we called the number we saw on his company car. It had a message to call yet another number in case of emergency. He tried it, someone picked up, pressed some buttons and hung up on him. I said, "it isn't meant to be, let's just leave."

After that, we headed over to the Humane Society of Southern Arizona. We looked at the dogs there and all of them were shepherd/pit bull/boxer mixes of varying ages. No really young dogs though. I wasn't going to bring a large dog into the house with Moses here. So, we checked the cats out. Of course, seeing all these lovely purring affectionate cats made me mourn for Ashley even more. There were two though, that were very lovable, energetic and interested in us. I of course fell in love with them and adopted them.

This is Wilbur and Orville, named after the Wright Brothers. They have already earned the nicknames of Willy, O-Town (L's suggestion—I have no idea where he got that one) and Wingus and Dingus after an episode of Futurama. Wilbur is more sedate and cuddly, and Orville is more adventurous, much like the two brothers in real life.*

Wilbur in the front and Orville in the back mid tongue lick.


Just two little mini-panthers hanging out.

They're super snuggly with each other, which allows Moses—our other
14 year old cat—some space to himself until he gets used to the new kittens.

*I have no idea if Wilbur Wright was a "cuddly" man. Actually, I'm pretty much doubting that adjective was used to describe him. Just a hunch.


Mountain Mama said...

Aw. Congratulations! ow i want to get some more kittens.

I would totally be "the crazy cat lady" if I weren't marrid to Kris--he's allergic.

So sorry about Ashley, but you seem to have found some nice distractions.