"A cat or dog will find you."
That's what the world has been telling me, by way of emotional comfort since I had to let go of my Havana Brown animal companion of 16.5 years - Carlotta. They mean well. But they don't know what they're talking about.
To begin with, still with me is my 16.5 year old coal black cat Jason. Since last Monday I have been pulling out all stops attempting to keep him going without his soulmate Carlotta. They used to groom each other and sit butt to butt on the couch, bed, and desk by the window looking out over New Haven, Connecticut. By trial and error I finally hit on chicken. It must be the ultimate comfort food because Jason has a spring back to his step. No way could I bring another animal into the house. Jason couldn't handle it.
Secondly, at age 66, which will be 67 in May, why would I want to start a new family? That entails years of commitment. Since I bought my first condo in Stamford, Connecticut at the end of the 1980s, I have been involved in animal rescue. Although that has been my greatest satisfaction in life it has also brought so much emotional turmoil. We outlive our animals companions. That means so much anguish at the vet's when we help them pass over. I don't think I can endure that any more. Pet grief has torn me apart more than the loss of my parents and older sister.
And, third, I have plans. Maybe big ones. After telecommunications gets to the state globally in which I can conduct business from wherever I would like to try out life in Ecuador or Spain. Right now I'm researching it.
When I get to my new, then I can consider adopting another animal companion. I will name her Resilience.
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