In 2009, I had a full-time job, decent wages, my own (rented) house, and a strong desire to adopt… Kitties!
My dad knew a guy who knew a gal who worked for Tufts Veterinary who knew two cats who needed a home. But I’d have to take both. They were besties, you see, and so inseparable that their caretakers didn’t want to separate them.
So I took both. And bought a big litter box.
The day they arrived at their new home, I was still at work, so my parents let them into my house, released them from their cage and watched as they ran from room to room, jumping on furniture and sniffing at walls. My dad said they’d run off opposite directions, check things out, then reconvene and sniff each other’s faces. Then off again, sniff around, reconvene, and cat chat.
By the time I got home, they were stone cold chillin’ on the couch and looked at me like, “And you aaaaare?”
That is the day ownership of my house changed hands… to paws. Nothing was ever fur-free again.