Written by Justine Tempelhoff
Professional photography by Skye’s Eye Photography
There I was, innocently scrolling through Facebook (as one does when avoiding actual responsibilities), when fate intervened in the form of a rescue kitten ad.
The post was a tearjerker – a desperate plea from an owner whose heart was breaking as she searched for a new home for her kitten. Her older cat had basically issued an eviction notice, and this little furball needed a family.
My heartstrings didn’t just tug – they practically yanked me off the couch. Before I could talk myself out of it, I was on my way to meet “Colby”.
Now, I should mention that I already had what some might call a “full house”: three dogs and Miya, my senior cat who’d recently lost her companion of 16 years. I was hopeful that Colby might help heal that void in her heart. What could possibly go wrong?
The moment I saw this stunning blue-eyed boy, I was a goner. Completely smitten. Head over heels. You get the picture.
But the homecoming? Well, let’s just say it wasn’t the heart-warming scene I’d imagined. I expected some theatrical hissing and dramatic barking – the usual new-pet welcome wagon. Instead, I opened the door to find four furry judgement machines lined up on my couch like a panel of unimpressed judges. Their collective expression clearly said: “Mother, what have you done?”
I was essentially given the cold shoulder for the entire evening. The silent treatment. From animals.
After some serious explaining (yes, I talked to them – don’t judge me), it mercifully took only two days for everyone to reach a peace treaty and become one big, happy, slightly chaotic family.
Two weeks in, and Colby has fully integrated himself into our lives and our routines. He’s claimed his territory: the space directly under my chin on the bed. There, he contentedly suckles on our blanket while purring like a tiny motorboat, giving me what I can only describe as an involuntary neck massage. He’s also decided that 3 AM is the perfect time to nibble on my nose – and more recently, my eyebrow – like some adorable, miniature Dracula. Nothing says “I love you” quite like becoming a midnight snack.
The real miracle? Miya has come so far. She now shares her food with him willingly (a feline gesture of the highest order), and while she’ll never admit it, I catch her watching him with something that looks suspiciously like affection.
As for Colby, he’s playful, inquisitive, and apparently an avid TV watcher with strong opinions about my Facebook feed.
Sometimes the best things in life come from a late-night scroll and a leap of faith.
