four years

 

I remember saying when my dear fluffy kitty Lenny died that I didn’t think I’d ever be able to have another orange cat. A cat, yes—but not an orange one, not one that would feel like a replacement for Lenny.

It’s been four years and, finally, I’ve healed enough. Finally there is more sweetness to the memories than bitterness, and even though my heart still hurts for Lenny, somehow I can love my second orange kitten even while I ache for the first. Hearts are more resilient than I thought they were; they are ever bending and expanding to love new characters, and even when they’re broken somehow they mend, though they’re never quite the same.

This is my Thor (better known in my house as Tor). He’s cuddly and happy and purrs almost incessantly. He’s precocious and social and loves just about everybody. I wonder if he’ll grow up to have the heart of a lion, like Lenny did: territorial, defensive, and fiercely loyal—yet loving and polite and regal. Or maybe he’ll always just be happy-go-lucky, oblivious little Tor who thinks the whole world is sunshine and roses. :)