...and I see a flyer for a cat that needs a home. We'd been kicking the idea of a feline addition around, so I took a tear sheet off the flyer.
This is Buddy:
His owner was a VeitNam vet (killed by either Agent Orange or Phillip Morris, or both). His friends had a full house, and couldn't keep him. They took the time to voir dire me prior to placement, my family and I passed.
He's a Maine Coon Cat. He's really playful 15 month old, energetic, and loving. My kids adore him. My wife, well, she's a 'dog person' (sigh). Anyway, we're all lucky to have each other.
Only, luck has nothing to do with it. After our last cat passed on over a year ago, we started 'kinda' looking a few months back. The idea of touring Death Row at the shelter kinda weirded me out, so I put off actively looking. Still, I kept feeling a need, a small emptiness. I waited.
I had never been in that church where I saw the flyer. Buddy's foster owner told me that she had just pulled every other flyer, except the one I saw. She was going to pull that one the next day.
Even in small things, Love will find a way.



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