So, I have a cat. Her name is Nani and she’ll be 13 this year. I adopted her as a kitten for my then 3-year-old and they became instant besties. She never left his side and when we’d come home she’d flop onto her back to get belly rubs or go find her bottle cap to play fetch (yes, she thinks she’s a dog). Since we moved abroad, we left her in the care of Auntie Wobbie because frankly she’s a cranky old lady and would hate that flight hard. When we visit home we carve out time just for Nani and we get pics of her so we know she’s still doin her thing.
The funny thing is, I was always afraid of being labelled a cat-lady. But after reading a blogging-pal’s post, I realized that what I am is just a proud pet-owner. She’s been around for the majority of my son’s life. She’s moved from place to place with us. She’s stayed by my side through sickness and heartbreak. She turned dog-people into Nani-fans. She comes up to you and meows and flops around and you can’t help but think she is rad.
So yeah we miss her. We’ve adopted some great kittens here in London that are awesome and we’ll take them back to the States with us one day, but Nani. She’s badass.