Kitten therapy

It's true that a kitten cannot solve all of one's problems. However, it can really help.

I'm not sure whether it is the fluffiness, or the warmth, or the kneading, or the purring, or the "prrrroowp!" sound they make when they land on your face in bed. Maybe it is a delicate combination of all of the above. It doesn't really matter why kittens are so great. They are simply (as so well put by a kitten behavior site I visited yesterday) "magical."

Nevertheless, kittens can be a handful. In fact, one kitten is quite a lot of kittens. But, somehow, they "merp" their way into our hearts in spite of their night-crazies and random fluff-eating. I believe that we owe nature a huge thank you for the kittens.

Having finished reeling from the initial shock of the recent tragedy that has fallen upon my family, I decided to participate in a little kitten therapy. It is easy. Step 1: adopt a kitten from your local animal shelter, Step 2: enjoy!. (Please consult your counsellor before starting any new therapy program.)

To be honest, kitten therapy wasn't my first outlet of anxiety. Surprisingly, for me, my first response was to go shopping. This is odd for me, as my idea of shopping is "You grab the toothpaste. I'll grab toilet paper. We'll meet at the register in 5. Go!" I've found myself recently drawn toward bookstores, mostly. I've purchased more novels in the last 3 weeks than I should be able to finish in a year. (Even if I weren't trying to finish my degree) I was bothered by this new obsession with book-buying at first, but then I read an article that cheered me up. According to Yahoo News, April was the best month that American businesses have had in a few years. I feel proud that my mild bout of OCD helped boost the economy. When the thrill of book-buying began to wane, my sights turned toward a new focus, a furry one.

My cat, Buster, died a year ago, on Mother's day. I had intended to devote a post to his memory for the anniversary, before the more important need for a post occurred 3 weeks ago. So, to avoid turning my blog into an obituary, I decided to instead celebrate the arrival of my new cat, Mesquite. 2 weeks ago, a cat followed me home. He was out after dark, which is dangerous in this coyote-ridden neighborhood. Most lost cats are truly "found" cats. In the sense that they are found by a coyote, or Jesus, depending on how you look at it. Anyway, the cat stayed at my place for less than an hour while I called his mom to come get him. It was really nice to have a cat around again. My neighbors have been urging me to replace Buster for months now. I had been considering it off and on (kitty or no-kitty), but the recent upset in my life pushed me more in the direction of kitty. So, I went to the local shelter in search of an adult short-hair male. Steve and I ended up choosing a long-hair female kitten. So much for pre-planning. So far, she has been a delightful handful. I just love to watch her groom, especially when she chews her feet.