A new chapter

Almost seven years to the day after two motherless kittens were rescued from the streets in West Point, NY, a litter of four who had been living in a DOT lot under the Pulaski Bridge in Greenpoint, Brooklyn found a similar fate. They had been cared for by a couple of big guys with even bigger hearts, but as they grew, it became clear they would need a little more help if they were to survive.

That help came in the form of volunteers from the Empty Cages Collective, and soon those kittens were being lovingly cared for in a foster home. They grew and thrived, photos went up online, and it was this photo that started it all.

We had talked about getting another cat after Dubby died. He left such a void in our lives, a hole in our hearts – we missed that boy cat energy in our home. And while we hadn’t really talked about getting another orange cat, I have to say that having known Dub, getting to learn about that famous orange cat personality first hand, it was tempting. But there is always the danger of, intentionally or not, trying to replace what you’ve lost with a carbon copy. Dub was such a special and unique cat, that would really be impossible, but I think Mike and I were both afraid. And we needed time to heal. We didn’t want to rush anything; we wanted to be sure we were truly ready.

We looked at craigslist. We looked into rescue organizations in and around Providence. We kept up with our old friends in New York. And then I saw him. I knew immediately there was something special about this little guy, I could see it in his eyes. He was the one.

I left comments and notes on photos, half-jokingly, a little scared. What was it going to take to adopt a kitten from Brooklyn when we were living so far away? The logistics alone would put many people off. And then, too, there was the fact that this kitten I was falling in love with looked so much like my beloved Dubby as a kitten. But I couldn’t stop thinking about him, wanting him, trying to figure out how we could pull this off.

Emails were exchanged, paperwork filled out, references checked, plans made and cancelled and made again. We thought he’d come home to us in October, but the whole litter got sick, lost weight, had to be medicated and their strength built back up. Our little guy is a strong one with a big appetite. He gained weight like a champ. We picked a date, finalized it, reserved a car and waited.

At the last minute, Mike was offered an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. He would head down, alone, to New York the day before our scheduled kitten pickup. But he couldn’t bring Kitten back on the train because Amtrak doesn’t allow pets in carriers – only service animals can ride the rails. So the day came, and I picked up the car, loaded up a carrier and some traveling music, and set off by myself.

The trip down was easy, if a little rainy, and I pulled off the BQE right around the expected time. I picked Mike up and we continued on to Greenpoint and the house where our little guy had been living.

Mike spotted him first, a flash of deep orange swirls pinging around the room. He smiled, pointed out the little face that was peering out from behind a cabinet. That was the face that I had fallen in love with, but that face was most certainly not Dub 2.0. This little guy had a look and personality all his own. We went upstairs and talked with his foster mom for a bit, heard from both mom and pop about what a great cat we were getting, what a wonderful little personality he has, how much they would miss having him around.

Mike held him first, and then passed him, squirming, to me. He squeezed right out of my hands and onto the floor, landing awkwardly before scampering off to hide. I was a little concerned that I had hurt him, but he was fine, just feeling a little skittish because of all of this unusual commotion.

After the papers were signed, we posed for a photo, loaded him up into the car and headed home. The rains were heavier, at points, so bad we could barely see the road. It was dark now, and Mike drove while I held the carrier tightly on my lap. I was expecting to have to comfort the little guy all the way home – aside from Junie, none of my cats have been good travelers – but he was completely calm and relaxed, alternately curling up in the carrier close to my belly, or stretching out on his side, either watching Mike or looking up at the wipers moving across the windshield.

We pulled into the driveway a little after 10 pm, and Mike went ahead to open up the carriage house so I could take Kitten right inside. The girls have been a little hissy, as we expected, but the little orange fella has settled right in. He has been everything we heard about and more. He is ridiculously sweet. He’s totally fearless, and could care less about the girls’ drama. He wants to be friends, but gives them a wide berth. Hopefully in time they’ll come to be as charmed by him as we are.

Mike has never had a kitten, so when we decided we were going to do this, I told him he’d get to choose the name. We had the middle name figured out before the first – an appropriately political-themed one, in keeping with our orange cat naming tradition. And while we had discussed first names and had a small pool of strong contenders, what we decided on came out of a comment from a friend. It suits him well.

I’d like to introduce Jack Kirby Hussein Dietsch, or Kirby for short.

Welcome to the family, little man. We love you so very much and are so happy you came to live with us.