When I had to let my two melanistic F1 Jungle Cats go many years ago, I was so devastated that I refused to have cats at all – my heart was broken and I just didn’t want to go through it again. All or nothing.
But when faced with a debilitatingly painful situation in my life, a close friend gently suggested I think about it… Bearing time alone – or any time at all – hurt so much that I was nearly unable to function.
One of the boys, a rescue, was taken into a home, and then brought back to the foster because the new family thought – because of his fur color – that he was “bad luck.” He was one of the sweetest kittens any of us had met and I decided – if he liked me too – that he would travel back home to live with me. For good. Black cats and I have a habit of working out. ❤
As fate would have it, a second all-black, bob-tailed rescue would show up…and the two of them got on famously.
The rest was history, and now we have two beautiful, jet black boys, Keku and Musashi.
I remember nearly every day how lonely I felt back then…and how lonely I’d feel now without them. Even when I get mewed to death an hour before dinner time, I’d be crushed not having them in my life.
No matter what I’m doing, they’re there just hanging out, with sweet spirits and ridiculously silly antics to assuage any bad day.