Introducing Stormborn

It's been nearly two and a half years since I lost Fog and Lily in the fire. I swore up and down, left and right that I would never have a cat again. But there is one snoozing a foot away from me as I type...

...and here I am holding her when she arrived Sunday:

Here my heart goes again...

When the cats died it was nothing like losing a pet to age, sickness, or any other situation. It was dark and brutal. I felt helpless. Their last moments have replayed on the screen in my brain more times than I can count; what was it like? My heart shatters daily. I never ever could have imagined their lives would end like that. They must have been so scared. I still remember that Lily smelled like cookies that morning and Fog rumble-purred in my arms the night before. Both slept with me.

Fog was adopted by that name. He would have been called Shadow otherwise but he was 11 months old and I felt it would be rude to change it. For the first few years after I brought him home he never left my side. He'd wait for me to come home, go to bed when I did, and if I needed to get up so did he. Lily's name was chosen after my other cat Clover (named for luck and new beginnings) passed away on the way to the ER from a cold (?).

Lily means dare to love again.

I thought I couldn't. I'd dared and I'd lost...more than words can say, I lost.

Then my friend told me her brother had found a kitten. She was only two weeks old, though; an orphan found alone under a porch. I looked at her. I've looked at a lot of cats but haven't touched many. It burns. When I looked at this kitten, though, I knew she was the one. She looks just like Lily's litter brothers. She was grey, but they were black. She was five weeks when she came to live with me. My two greys from Massachusetts.

Well, this time I told Brandon to pick a name. It had to be tough and strong - after a dragon, I said. Dragons are fireproof, you know.

Stormborn, he told me. Perfect.

Coincidentally (?) it stormed the day she came to live with us.

Oh, and she's a Jersey Girl. or boy. We're still not sure. Little bridge and tunnel cat; she can lift weights with Bran, do laundry with me, and get tan with Tristan.

Two days later she arrived. Swiftly. I'm just as confused as s/he is. My wide eyes stare into her blue goop squint. I have to teach her how to use the litter box and give her a bottle of formula and goat milk every two hours. I keep a hot water by her and try to not overstimulate by holding all the time. It's hard. She's so cute and light.

I don't know if she will make it. She's going into the vet today because she's acting a little rough around the edges and I feel it's super important. I'd be lying it I said I wasn't attached. Some part of me is still orbiting, though.

Tristan, you ask? Oh, he is flying high on cloud 9! Someone grab him by the string before he floats away! He can't get enough of her and waits patiently (sorta) during her long naps then helps hold her bottle. When he met her he had a slightly Ozzy-moment where he tried to pluck off her head but not since then. He coo's and offers her kisses and names the parts of her fuzzy head. Kikky-cat, he says.

Good morning, Stormborn, I missed you alllll night!

Everybody's lookin' for somethin' 
Somethin' to fill in the holes 
We think a lot but don't talk much about it 
'Til things get out of control 
How do I know when it's love 
I can't tell you but it lasts forever 
How does it feel when it's love 
It's just something you feel together 
When it's love - Van Halen