It's funny how the life and death of an animal affects you. I can't even name all the animals I've loved and lost. I feel sort of ashamed of that, but then again, just because you forget a name, it doesn't mean you forget the person or animal it belonged to. And I certainly don't forget any of them, nameless or not. When Ferris died in '99, I felt completely lost. I thought that that was it. Nothing or nobody was going to make me feel better, but then Delilah came and showed me that it was okay to feel something again, and that by accepting her into my life, that I wasn't forgetting or letting go of Ferris, I was building a new place where she would be, not as a replacement, but as an equal. Mum, although she "claimed" that she hated cats (6 cats = ♥, Mum) and that we would never get another, always suggested, after losing a cat, that we pick out one when we were ready. At the time, this never made sense to me, to replace a dead cat with another one, was almost disrespectful but it did always work, it did always help and it was always done.
Cutie arrived by accident. Belinda and I had gone into Animates on Papanui Rd and the first thing we saw was this gorgeous little tortishell kitten, alone in this huge kitten cage in the middle of the showroom floor, being terrorised by the sales clerk, who screeched at us that they all called her "Shelley" (poor kitty, she needed be to saved). As soon as she saw us, she knew that she had a home. She hammed it up and meowed and purred and clung, and no matter how Mum protested via phone, there was no chance that we weren't going to get her. Cutie came home with us and enriched all of our lives (even if she did piss Mum off by peeing on things, stealing food and being naughty lol) more than we had thought possible. I'm sure even Delilah liked her for a short while, before the snorting and hissing began lol.
Cutie died in April 2004, not long before I left for London. The usual way - hit by a car, crossing the street. I think Belinda always blamed herself for that, when she really shouldn't have, although I don't think I did much at that time to persuade her not to. I had my own guilt to deal with.
Shortly after Cutie died, Belinda got Poe. I never warmed to that idea, even though I had always gotten another cat after the death of another. The idea of Belinda getting a kitten a week after the death of Cutie hurt me for some reason. It wasn't because I blamed Belinda. It wasn't because I thought it was wrong. It was because I couldn't do it. I wasn't able to this time. Not only because I was leaving soon, but because my heart wasn't ready to.
Now I think, that perhaps that was a mistake. I had a month and a half worth of therapy because of Cutie (and TBH, I think I need more). I spent hour after hour crying over this cat. I still can't look at a tortishell without holding back tears. I avoid looking at pictures of Cutie, because it hurts too much, and writing this entry has been pretty damn difficult for me, even though I felt I had to. I didn't get another, and for that, I never found any closure. So when I get home, when I can finally get a cat, let it be a tortishell. Two-faced and all.