After months of mourning the loss of Baxter, we recently decided it was time to try having a cat again – this time with a new strategy. As previously noted in the blog, our old cat KC is a carrier of the fatal kitty disease (FIP) which claimed Baxter’s l
It was all over from that moment. He had been found on the street that very day, so we had to wait five days to see if anyone would claim him. No one did, and this cat, christened Dexter (nothing to do with the TV show), is now prowling my office like he owns the place.
Two things interest me about this. One is the immediate bond we had from the moment I saw him – who knows how and why things like that happen? And second is Dexter’s age. Based on the best estimates the vet could give us, it seems that Dexter was born at almost exactly the same time that Baxter died. Something highly appropriate about that, in my mind (and if it’s only in my mind, so be it.)
Over the years of my recovery, I’ve learned to pay attention to my gut feelings (once I became able to have feelings). I don’t get them all the time, but it’s amazing what they can tell me.
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