of kitten separation anxiety

Yesterday afternoon, Vera moved out.

Midge capital-h-hated her (even their briefest interaction was tense and awful) and though Hal largely ignored her, his inability to get over this illness (back to the vet yesterday; Dr. Jim doesn’t suspect anything sinister) had all the earmarks of stress and well, my mother-in-law met Vera on Saturday and fell, as one does, in love with the little ball of fluff.

“I can’t think of a better home,” I said to the Dork Lord, as much as to myself. “I mean, if anyone’s going to treat her like a tiny, furry person, your mom will.”

“She will treat her like a princess.”

It was true. And really the best you can hope for, your sweet little rescue going to someone who will love it to the same ridiculous degree you would yourself. Plus, we’ll still get to see her. But do you know how many times I’ve stopped myself from checking in on her in the last 20 hours? THIS MANY.

(Actual number of times I have checked in on her = THIS MANY – 2. I have been so restrained.)

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