Fly Away Home

For the past few weeks, we've been trying to figure out the logistics for getting GPOM's cat to me.  Finally, it seemed that the cat would fly into Nashville, where I would get her at the ungodly hour of 8am.  On a Sunday.  You do know that I jealously guard my Sundays, right?  So today when GPOM called, he told me to expect a delivery tomorrow.  But then he dropped the bomb.

Hoops is flying into my town.  Oh, thank christ, into my town.  At a realistic hour.

Of course, this means that I had to buy litter and a box, food and treats.  I did the best I could, and when I texted pictures to GPOM, he replied with, "Meow".  I guess this means that she's be OK with it.

Here's the thing - up until I got that call and thought a bit, I kinda resented having to keep his cat.  But once I thought about the twelve-hour journey for a seventeen-year-old cat, my stomach started knotting up, and I thought about getting her here safely, and about how we'll get to know (and tolerate) each other.

Everything's ready, finally, including me.  So please get here safely and well, little Jupiter.  We'll take our time to fall in love.  And your boy will be here soon enough.