I know, I know...everybody is probably getting sick of me going on and on about losing Mango. For the most part, we're handling it pretty well. It's been almost two months, and I think we're adjusting.
At least, I thought we were, until today. One of our awesome pet therapy volunteers at work brought by the newest four-legged member of our volunteer team, a gorgeous Dalmation. One of my co-workers, watching me crouching down on the floor at eye level with the pup, petting him vigorously and fielding his kisses, asked me if I had a dog. No, I said, in an almost knee-jerk reaction, I have Six Cats.
Suddenly I froze, realizing I had misspoken. I quickly corrected myself and said that no, I only have five cats now. I'd somehow forgotten. I think I forgot yesterday, too, when a Brother Wolf volunteer came by to deliver a "Puppy Gram" to a co-worker. Why couldn't I adopt the puppy? My Six Cats would have none of it. I didn't even catch it that time.
It has become so much a part of how I define myself and my life, and we've had six for so many years, that it's challenging to break out of that habit. People who don't know us well or haven't known us long have tended to ask us "so, how many cats do you have now," as though the number might be fluid, or might be added to at any time. I always respond with a tiny hint of indignation. We're not just "collecting cats," you know. We have a strong, personal relationship with all six of them. It's not about adding to the numbers.
But I'd never really noticed before how much satisfaction I got out of saying that we had Six
Cats. The number is just north of "we-keep-them-around-because-they're-not-too-much-trouble" and just south of "crazy-cat-people." Some other people we have known have told us that six is also the magic number of cat behavioral problems. Six is really about the most you can have without having them go all mental on you. (I'm sure someone out there with seven cats begs to differ, but I'm not saying it's a hard-and-fast rule.)
But for years now, since 2006, it's been Sean and me and the Six Cats. The Brady Bunch of cats, if you will. It was just reality, the kind of truthfulness that stays with you, like knowing the sun will come up every morning. And that's been really hard to let go of.
It's not like five is anything to sneeze at. But sometimes I look around the living room at all five of them, lying by the wood stove, on the floor, and in our laps, and even though it doesn't seem like there are too few of them, the number still doesn't seem quite right. For years, Mango hasn't really been a part of the family, but it's still hard letting the "Six Buddies" idea go. Sean's brother and sister-in-law have been so kind, offering to give us another Siamese kitten, but I'm just not there yet. I think I'm going to have to get used to there being five before I could ever be comfortable having six again. Maybe I'll never get there...who knows.
All I know is that we have what I consider to be the best five buddies in the world right now. I'm working on being okay with that.
"My name is Julia, and I have Five Cats." See, that wasn't so hard.
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