Some people think that adopting little babies or furbabies is a favor to them. Because they need to be saved. Because it’s charity that will earn people brownie points with Sky Daddy. Like my friend, Ananya, who adopted a “rescue kitty”.
“I just wanted to do something charitable, you know? I really needed to feel good about myself”, she said.
She was going through a divorce, had been made redundant at her job and had just lost a chunk of her social circle due to this change of circumstance. She was feeling worthless and hadn’t laughed at anything for a very long time. In her heart, she believed she never would. She had even considered ending her life.
On kitty’s first night, she followed Ananya into the bathroom and stared at her while she sat down to pee. Then kitty tried to get into the panties around Ananya’s ankles and got horribly tangled and distressed. Ananya heard someone laughing — and a few seconds later found herself shaking, her belly jiggling softly, her head thrown back. She was feeling happy. Not amused or silly. But red-faced belly-shaking happy. Kitty wanted to be with her, even when she was peeing. Kitty needed her to free him from a panty tangle. Kitty was upset if she went out and seemed like he had missed her every moment she was gone.
She named kitty Magic. Her magical furry friend who made her feel needed and loved and followed her around like she was the most important person in the world. A magical “rescue cat”, who saved her life.