I was in tears after Goldie's light went out, and Gary said, "We'll get another cat."
I was horrified. Way too soon, my dude. Read the room. Read the room full of hysterical crying.
The great thing about Goldie was that we got to know him, and won him over slowly, and watched as he blossomed during his time with us.
Essentially, Goldie was me. Resistant to love, skeptical of affection, bitey. And now Gary wants some whore kitten? Some whore kitten who loves us because we feed it? I don't think so. Last night he wanted to go get a cat at a pet store, even, which goes against everything we learned with our dogs Mac and Doug.
I wish there was some way you could search for cats by personality. Hinge for cats. Seriously, you go in to an app, and they have an algorithm that does some behind the scenes magic, and it serves up a cat you are sure to love and then you delete the app. I would even accept a Facebook app that gives me Hot Cats Near You. Cats not looking for love. Cats like Goldie.
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