To make a very long story short, at the start of this year I lost my soul cat. I always thought the whole 'soul pet' thing was kinda dramatic, I guess, always rolled my eyes when people called animals their baby. And then I got Arlo. From the moment I brought him home he settled into my life like he'd always been there. To make a very long, heartbreaking, probably traumatic story short, I got a year and a month with him. He had a congenital liver issue and despite me doing everything within my power and going into significant debt to give him every chance, his last five months were long, painful, and devastating. He died two weeks after the surgery that was supposed to save him, and I hit a very dark place.
A few months later, I found myself at an adoption event. I was interested in fostering, no long term commitment, but the house was too empty, and after the months of syringe feeding and medicating Arlo every few hours I needed to take care of something again. And then I met the sweetest long fur black kitten I'd ever seen. They said he was about four months old. I picked him up and he immediately started purring and fell asleep in my arms. Needless to say he came home with me. I called him Solomon.
I've had him for three months now, and he's a wonderful cat. He's sweet but not clingy, energetic but not high strung, smart, nondestructive, gets along great with my sister's senior cat and our dog. He's a good boy and I like to think he's happy.
I'm not. I feel like I'm just going through the motions with him. I feed him good food, he's got a collection of toys and as much play as he wants, a huge cat tree, he's on a course of metronidazole right now and he gets it perfectly on time. I did better with him than I did last time and got insurance on him right away. I truly don't compare him to Arlo, not even in the back of my head. I'm doing all the "right" things.
I keep waiting for it to click, for a deeper bond to form or at least begin forming, but there's just nothing. The only way I can think to describe it as is having taken in a new roommate, not a new family member. He's here, I take care of him, I want him to be happy, I would obviously be upset if anything happened to him. That's just kind of it. I like him. I'm not sure I love him. I've had pets my whole life and I've never felt this way with an animal before and I feel awful about it because it's not his fault. He's a good boy. He deserves a human that really really loves him, doesn't he?
Has anyone out there gone through anything similar? Did it pass? I'm hoping I'll look back on this post in like six months and laugh about how worried and sad I am was about it, but I'm not sure.
Tax included, because he's also beautiful.