We interrupt our normally scheduled programming for a nonmusical announcement:
The Will You Miss Me When I’m Gone? household is about to adopt four cats. Yep, four feline Americans, as a friend describes cats. In one fell swoop. They are scheduled to arrive next Saturday, Aug. 20.
Let me explain: Their person, an Upper West Side woman I’ve never met, took at tumble earlier this year and has been in a nursing home since then. Her relatives are moving her out West, and the cats can’t go with her. So they needed a home, something we discovered through the magic of facebook and friends at the the Cathedral Church of Saint John the Divine in Manhattan, where their person once worked.
So we’ll soon welcome Smudge (the eldest, a Siamese), Ari, Opal and Menace (blind in one eye, the youngest and most active and least-reserved of the bunch!) into our little house. What a beautiful thing it’ll be.
Our household became a cat-free zone on Feb. 21, when our last kitty, Donuts, died — or crossed the Rainbow Bridge, as the hard-core cat people say. (Long story, but he had a brother named Duncan who died last year. Duncan Donuts, get it?) Before that, we had as many as five cats in the house, a veritable Brady Bunch.
We pretty much expected to be catless for quite awhile. We couldn’t even think of looking for new cats. After all, virtually every one of our cats had chosen us, rather than the other way around, so we didn’t see any particular need to look.
But then I found out about the tragic story of this quartet of kitties, ranging in age from around 7 to the ripe old age of 17. We decided to take a look, figuring we’d adopt two of them.
Oops. We fell in love with all of them and couldn’t bear to break up the set.
So, they are having a spa day, a visit to the vet and then they’re taking the trip to Rockland County next Saturday. I hope they like the country.