The rescue cat who rescued me

Diary

I write this, hunched over and slightly uncomfortable as I don’t want to disturb the fluffy baby who rests on my lap. This fluffy baby I speak of is a young cat which Liam and I adopted from the RSPCA – his name is Gandalf.

Gandalf was in the Little Valley RSPCA centre because his previous family could not afford to pay for an operation that he needed. Gandalf had a UTI that went unnoticed for a while which caused a build up of crystals in his urinary tract – so bad that his kidneys were so infected that he almost died. Gandalf had surgery to remove the build up of crystals in his urethra and luckily, he is in good health and his kidney function has returned to normal. Due to the severity of his condition, he will have to remain on a prescription diet for the rest of his life and have regular check ups at the vet – which is why I imagine he was in the centre for such a long time with the cost and risks involved with his care.

With all this in mind, we still fell for him, hook, line and sinker the moment he strutted into the ‘meeting room’. We picked him up a week later, expecting him to take a very long time to get used to us and his new home (he was a very nervous cat) – but after a couple of hours of sniffing around and finding his hidey holes he was meowing for attention and snuggled up next to use on the sofa.

For a while I had been feeling like I was missing something in my life – I have amazing friends, my perfect man, wonderful home and career – but I still had a hole that needed to be filled. I felt as though I was floating through my life with out any purpose other than to shop and decorate myself and my home.

Then there was Gandalf. The silly cat who wakes me up in the morning by lying on top of me and nibbling my cheek or bopping me on the head with his paw. The playful cat who gets so excited when you come home from work and who throws himself onto his back so you can tickle his tummy. The mental cat who chases his own tail and prefers to play with nail files and pens than catnip ridden toys. The cat who prefers to do his business if you’re in the same room with him. The cat who jumps up on you when you’re sad to give you an eskimo kiss.

I hadn’t realised how much I needed him until he woke me in the middle of the night by ‘washing’ my hair and then cuddling into my chest, falling asleep with me. I don’t care if I sound like a crazy cat lady (which by the way, I can’t qualify for anyway as I have a man!), this cat has filled that empty hole and has made me feel complete. It is safe to say that I love him and I know that he loves Liam and I.

“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us”

-Gandalf

(obviously that is a quote from the film… my cat can’t talk)

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From Swiping Right, to Mr Right

Diary

It all started one hungover Sunday, aimlessly swiping through an endless array of not so great ‘men’ and the odd ‘dick pic’ (#Tinder). I was Tinderella, searching for my Prince Charming.

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And there he was – the man who I wasn’t quite sure about because he was so unbelievably perfect. We clicked instantly, sharing the same dry, sarcastic sense of humour. He bought me Maltesers on our first date (winning), made friends with all my friends and buys me flowers on the regular. He was (and still is) the definition of my perfect man and he is the Prince that I know I deserve, especially after all the frogs that I have kissed. He was the good influence I needed and I was the bad influence he wanted.

My family became his family and his family became mine and I am thankful every day for the love that he brought into my world. I can officially say that I now know what love is (sorry, Mariah).

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Ok, this post is over now. You can remove your head from the toilet bowl. 😷