What's New Pussy Cat

It's been about two and a half months since my cat, Frank, died and I still miss him a lot. My female cat, Tutz seems to have finally developed some confidence and will come and sit with us at night and she'll meow a bit. She's laying next to me now, giving me a little squeak every now and again to remind me to pet her. Or she'll stand up and lick my arm with that tiny, sand-paper tongue of hers. She adores Cody too and will cuddle up with him. But she still avoids the kids like the plague and spends most of her day hanging out in the basement, sat in the big picture window looking at birds and passers by.
I love her, but she isn't Frank.

Frank was daft as a brush. He'd get locked in cupboards and hide round corners and jump out on Cody. He'd meow like a banshee for tuna and he'd sit and give you his paw for a treat. He loved humans and he had such a great personality. I'd get home from work and he'd run to see me, meowing like mad and then purring so loud when I held him. And he'd sleep with me, in the crook of my arm or even on my head ( a Frankie hat).

So here's the deal. There's a cat rescue place nearby and I've been looking at some of their pictures on the Internet and thinking maybe we should get another. Craig says 100% NO. I know what he means because cats just ruin the house - the hair is everywhere, the carpet gets plucked, they barf and they pee periodically in places they shouldn't. And then they die and break your heart. But still, I have a yearning that I'm trying to work out and I'm even having conversations with myself about how to convince Craig "I'll take care of it and feed it I promise!" God, I sound like a 7-year old.

Maybe it's because I feel guilty that I didn't give Frank enough love the last couple of years and I want to make amends?
Maybe I just miss Frank and his wacky personality and want that quirkiness back?
Maybe I'm trying to replace Frank?

I have a mad-busy life with my job, hubby, two kids, dog and cat. What possible reason could I have for wanting another cat to take care of? But I see a picture of Clementine, a 4-year old orange tabby that loves people so much they let her hang out in the office and I think, I could take care of her, of Clemmy. And I love Winston Churchill and that was his wife's name - so it must be fate, right? Craig thinks I'm bonkers.

Ohhh, what to do..


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