A new layer of life

It's really wild to go back and read what I last blogged. Apparently five years ago I thought I'd write regularly. Interesting.

Let's catch up quickly:
-I finished my degree in English for secondary education and got my teaching certificate
-I became a middle school teacher at a school in Brooklyn for two years, and I became a shell of my former self
-My kids got a lot bigger (Beckett is almost 10 and Sammy is almost 6.5)
-I realized that early childhood is a better fit for me, and I now teach at the same preschool both of the boys went to
-Steve and I are still married
-We got two cats

I'm going to concentrate on that last one. Our last cat (the awesome Little Cat!) died shortly before Sammy turned one year old. We were overwhelmed by life, and it was a relief to not have the responsibility of a cat or to have to cede space to it. Every once in a while I would casually mention getting a cat, Steve would say something grumpy, and I'd let it go. Then, a little more than a year ago, I realized that I needed a cat with a passion. Remember that part above where I became a shell of my former self? That sucked. I needed a warm, breathing, furry being that would make noises and sit on my lap sometimes to help fill up the shell of my existence. I promised Steve that I would take care of the litter box. I got the kids on board. We harassed him until he said yes. Hooray! And then it took another year to get a cat.

We got two. They might be brother and sister. They were captured living on the street, being fed by a woman who cut a hole in her door so cats could come in and out, but then she moved to Florida or something.

Can you find the cats?

The girl cat, Delilah, likes being patted. When I pick her up and put her on my lap and rub her vigorously under her chin, she almost purrs. The boy cat, Julius, not so much. He hisses if we come too close (within 2 feet of him) or when we startle him with a noise. He might be just a little too feral to ever let us touch him. And I'm okay with that. I admit to feeling sad for a week or so when I realized that it might never change. I would love a couple of sweet cats who rub their heads against my legs, beg for space on my lap, and drape garlands of flowers over my shoulders. But it turns out that I really love this cat who won't let me touch him. When the kids go to bed, the two cats come out in full force to chase each other and play in the living room. He may not purr, but he makes really cute, high-pitched "mew" noises when I put the food down. Sometimes when I'm on my bed reading, I can hear one or both of them moving around underneath.

We opened our home to these cats because we needed them and they needed us. I happened to be reading a book about outrageous openness at the time they came to us, and I thank the Divine Light for that because it helped me move past the regret to get quickly to the good part: free, unqualified love of these animals with whom I share space. There is an extra layer of life in our home now, and it is both smelly and glorious.