I’m going to tell you a story. If you’ve been following these posts for a year or longer, you’ve probably heard it before, so you can skip this one if you want.
Three years ago, I went into the Williamson County Animal Shelter looking for another little cat to love nine days after I said my last goodbyes to Lucy.
I knew I could never hope to replace Lucy, but I needed a place for all the love to go that was still in my heart. I had no idea what this new cat would look like.
I did hope that the cat would more or less pick me. I prayed that the right cat would choose me to be her human rather than me choosing the cat.
It hadn’t worked the way I planned. I looked at a few cats that were nice (if not super affectionate or friendly). I even had one picked out that I thought I could grow to really love in time.
But then I turned around to see a little kitten paw reaching out from a cage behind me. Actually, it was my nephew who pointed her out to me, I think.
She was all alone in her cage, crying for me to take her home. She had picked me as the very human she wanted to spend all her nine lives with.
Her name at the time was Marcie, but that name really didn’t fit. I don’t know what inspired the name Peanut, but it seemed to fit (plus it got three votes from my nephews and niece).
So three years later, I have this quiet and gentle cat who loves her belly rubs. She’s mostly black, but she has this one peanut butter colored foot that she’s rather proud of (or at least you’d think so by the way she shows it off).
Thanks, Peanut, for three years of joy. You are the best.