Felines, Nothing More Than Felines...

Today I made a tough call. I decided not to take in two kittens, less than three weeks old, which had been discovered outside of a coworkers condo. They are black with big blue eyes, one adventurous and one docile and me-like. For nearly 24 hours after meeting them I tossed around the idea in my head of taking them home. I wrote out pros and cons (the pros were more in volume). I spoke at length to my wife who is away for work. I sought advice from various current and former cat owners. By the end of the first day I met them, I was fairly certain I would take them home with me next time I saw them. But then, I asked for a sign.

I'm a fairly resourceful person who rarely feels completely at a loss to make a decision. Typically, I go with my gut and things work out quite well. I'm a terrible over-thinker, but eventually I act, and it works well for me, so I don't generally mess with the process. On this one, I honestly had no idea what was going to happen. I think it was this morning, sitting at the Waffle House, when I realized that I needed a sign, some divine roadsign that would point me literally in the right direction. What I feared in asking was that I had already received divine direction (as I often do) during a conversation with my wife the night before. She was almost ambivalent about me bringing home kittens, but at the same time was prepared to support me in whatever decision I chose. I suspect if God had a perspective, it would probably be similar. Quit overthinking it and just decide. If you take them, I will make it work out. If not, fine. It's almost completely beside the point, but stepping outside the issue every now and again and realizing the likely moral irrelevance of my killer decisions makes me feel better. I don't know why.

So, my sign. It came while I was driving home this morning. I had slep very little last night, as often happens when I have a day off coming up. This morning, however, I had to get up way before dawn in order to take my mother-in-law to the airport so she could visit my wife. That whole process went well, but I was very exhausted and caffeinated afterwards. Upon entering my neighborhood, I found myself being very grateful that there were not two tiny hungry mouths to feed that day. I found myself relishing the fact that I could go home, take a nap, get up in the afternoon and wander around, doing my own thing, with zero regard for anyone or anything else. Ultimately, what I realized is that I do not want kittens, puppies, or any categorically needy organism in my space. Not now, anyway.

That realized and said, I do still want a cat. I also want a child. When I found out recently that my wife was pregnant, I was very excited about it, even if it only lasted a couple of days. When I found out that I could take home kittens, all I could think about was the crazycostdamagework it would bring me. Does the idea of a dependent freak me out? Yes. Will I figure out how to take care of whatever it is when I get it? Yes. Am I ready for tiny pets? No. In the end, I have to appeal to my wife for the perfect response to the situation--'You can do whatever you want, but I want a child'. Maybe I only want to invest time in raising something that will one day return the favor when I'm an old timer. Maybe I just don't have a lot of patience to expend in rearing and I want to save it all for one place. I know that I still want a fat old happy cat. Maybe, once I've built my army of fat, happy old timers, both human and otherwise, God will see fit to give me a child. I mean, once, you've got the village in place, what else is there...?