Tip 02// There is ALWAYS room for a loved one
When we tell people that we are not ready to have children at this time, their next step is usually to inquire about the likelihood of us owning a pet. A feline friend or a canine, perhaps? To which we have shot them down with equal fervor, choosing our own privacy, space, and time over additional responsibility. Why would we want to complicate our lives after everything we’ve done to create space? What we didn’t know was that the universe had plans of their own, and decided that if we were not going to search for an animal to love, I suppose it was going to dump one on our laps, or rather, in the midst of our nightly walking path. I guess it’s a way to fill up the space that we’ve purposefully made room for, with things of meaning and value. After all, that’s what this life we created is all about.
As you can probably guess, we have added a new member to our home. Which begs the question of how to even begin thinking about bringing in an additional breathing being into small space living. The answer is simple and easy. Which is that there is always room for another loved one.
- Small Space Living: Baskets
- Property Ownership: It’s Not About Finding Your Dream Home
- Small Space Living: We’ve Joined the Small House Movement!
We were still renting at the old loft and were doing our usual mid-summer night’s walk through the neighborhood, when this orange ball of fluff appeared out of nowhere, and approached us. He didn’t approach with hesitation or signs of fear. Boldy, this little guy walked right up to Mr. Debtist’s bare ankles meowing and literally head-butted him, an obvious indication that someone needing some pets. Mr. Debtist knelt down and gave him a little head pat, which was invitation enough for the fellah to continue purring and head-butting his way into our little hearts. After getting a minute’s love from Mr. Debtist, he came after me. Nudging me with his little ears and rolling over to get some belly pats, it was easy to see that he definitely was an affectionate little creature. Once ten minutes of giving him attention passed, we got up to continue our walk home, and he followed us for a ways, meowing his farewells.
After our first introduction, we started visiting him every night. He was reliably found in front of the same door, which made us think that perhaps he was owned by someone else. However, the occasional interview with the neighbors taught us that he was a stray cat that appeared around the time we first saw him. One neighbor let him into his business front every morning for the entire day while he was working. When he left for home, he would put the kitty out. Another neighbor would feed the cat when she got home from work. When I asked her why she only fed him wet food, she told me it was because he was toothless, a dagger delivered straight to a debtist’s the heart. A third neighbor took the liberty to name him Tucker.
In mid-September, we closed on escrow! As we were preparing to move, my woes were mostly centered around leaving the loft that was our home the past two years. We started living in that loft before we were even married. We experienced so many moments with close friends and family, and on our own, too. We imagined we would buy one loft just like it in the area. But that’s not where life took us. It took us away from where we first set our roots to grow, and it took us away from that darned cat.
Of all the things I missed most about that place, I didn’t miss anything more than our feline friend. Admittedly, we made some ventures back to the old place for tying up loose ends, and looked forward to seeing his face. Each time, I feared someone else had fallen in love and taken him away from us. Each time, there was a moment I held my breath, in case we found him no longer there.
One week ago, we went on our usual visit, when a neighbor popped up from his balcony and tried to get us to take him home. He praised that cat and really pushed and shoved, but we didn’t budge. We weren’t interested in taking a cat in, or so we said. We would jokingly say, “Let’s take him home,” and look at each other and grin. Mike said he was down if I was serious, but to be honest, I wasn’t sure I was ready to give up space in our new home. Small enough as it is, where would a kitty scratch post go? Or a litter box? More importantly, where does it go so that it is considered to be even remotely sightly? Where can it be placed so that I won’t have to gawk at its ugliness, that fiendish plastic bin being?
Then this past weekend came and went, along with it a series of natural events.
It has been so long since California experienced rain, I can’t even pinpoint when it was. Perhaps we missed the rain while we were away on vacation? My memory pinpoints to June, of LAST year. Well, rain it did this weekend. Sunny, 98-degree weathered Friday brought in thunder and lightning in the early evening, along with a torrent of rain drops. Angry rain, momentarily, and then a drizzle until next morning.
I was walking the three blocks it takes to get to work, in the cold, on the wet, and thought about that cat. How was he faring? Meowing his head off, no doubt. Asking for a warm body to hug, maybe? It rained all of Saturday, and that’s who I kept thinking of. I voiced my concerns to Mr. Debtist, who agreed and repeated that he was down to take the cat home. But still, I hesitated.
Sunday was lovely, in contrast. A day well spent with my parents and brother. In between the socializing, Mike and I teetered between going to pick up the cat, or not. Since it was a sunny day, and I was busy entertaining family, there wasn’t anything to push me over the edge.
Monday … Monday was a different story. Providence brought about dreaded Santa Ana winds. I woke up at 5:30 in the morning, and could not go back to sleep. The double-paned windows creaked in misery, singing a sad song that brought my mind to the cat, once again. Darned cat. Trees have fallen over, in surrender. Has that cat, too? My co-worker brought news of a lady who was killed in the morning by </s>the wind</s> a tree pushed over by the wind. Has the cat suffered the same fate? I couldn’t torment myself anymore.
I texted Mr. Debtist to pick up the cat after work. He drove back to our old place, and there was the cat, waiting. This furry creature weaseled his way into our hearts, and now has a warm home, just before the winter months. We took him to the vet yesterday, and we picked up the minimal necessities. Turns out, there IS room for a loved one and his things. Our small space just got a little smaller, but our lives just got much more grand. The cat’s, too.
- Age: Guesstimated to be about 4-5 years
- Physical Appearance: Orange, Short Haired, Green-Yellow Eyed. Has a small tip of his ear cut off, for when the Rescue and Release Program took him in and neutered him in the past.
- Almost toothless. Has severe periodontitis, so we are extracting what few, decayed teeth he has left in a few months, to make it entirely official.
- FIV+. Poor guy, must’ve gotten in a fight at some point with another FIV+ cat. It doesn’t mean he can’t live a long and happy life. Only that his immune system is weak and we need to monitor his health a bit more closely. Hopefully, we give him happy days for the rest of his cat life.
- Personality: Loves cuddles and head scratches, is very talkative, and social. Feels unsure about his carrier, and does not like the way we pick him up. Not a picky eater, and loves to take cat naps.
- The newest addition to our home.