At 5 years old, I sit in a waiting room holding a stuffed kangaroo, her baby snugly tucked in her pouch. A nurse in starched white clothes and a stiff white hat comes to me and asks if I would like to go with her. She has a warm smile, and it doesn’t occur to me to say no. Without giving it much thought, I take her hand, and we go down a long corridor to another room where she leaves me. The walls are glaringly white and there is a strong smell of ether in the air. I should have never followed her, something about not going with strangers. Now, I am in this other place and have no idea how to get back to where I had been.
At the end of the day, I pick up the kittens after getting them neutered. That morning, they hissed and yowled; cat carriers, car rides, and the clinic were all new and unknown experiences for them. Now, they sit in their carriers ready to come home, their eyes still bleary from anesthesia.
I was surprised to learn they are both females, having made the assumption that the larger dark one was a male. They hardly look like sisters, the light grey one having short hair, the dark one with long silky hair and markings like her mother.
I have decided to find homes for both of them, even though a part of me would like our home to be theirs. Like Dave, I believe our lives are already complicated with all the times I have led with my heart. And though it will be sad to see them go, not needing to introduce them to our two highly territorial cats, who already have claimed this space as their home, feels like a relief.
So these two girls are now available for adoption. If you know of anyone who is looking for an 11-week-old kitten, please let me know. They both like to play and be petted, but will occasionally hiss, just to remind you that they began their lives in the wild and are still learning to trust.