When my husband and I first moved in together, a little over eight years ago, we decided we wanted to adopt some kitties. One night, he came home from work with a 'surprise'. His jacket had two lumps in the front - that were purring.
He pulled down the zipper to reveal two of the most adorable but sickly looking kittens I'd ever seen. A little tiger striped boy and a black fluffy girl with orange eyes. He had rescued them not from a shelter, but from the family of his little sister's boyfriend. The kittens and their mother had been sorely neglected (believe me, I was NOT impressed). I was immediately attached, but scared they weren't going to make it through the night.
But they did. And a vet trip, shots, worming, de-flea-ing and lots of kitten food later, they were thriving.
Boris and Bridget. They were our first children.
Now, they are eight years old. They still snuggle like they did when they were brand new. I've often wondered if animals have the capacity to love.
I'm pretty sure they do.
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