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Maggie’d been gone a month when I came upon my husband and daughter peering at cats online.  Next thing I knew, I had my eye on an orange-and-white 16-year-old.  Fluffy looked a little tired but I figured, what was another furry senior?  I’d helped many pets transition in 2011, including my two cats.  I had that color paint on my brush.

Besides, close to the end or not, I couldn’t stand the thought of a rickety cat spending his last days in a shelter.  The Boulder Valley Humane Society is a beautiful facility but every cat needs a person to work with and me, I needed a cat.  What kind of animal communicator doesn’t have a pet?  A fraud, that’s who.

I rounded up the family for a vote.  It was decided that I, the Animal Communicator, surely had a firm grasp on the situation and so the team signed off.  Duly, my daughter and I trotted off to Boulder to inform Fluffy of our decision.   In retrospect I should have known something was up because I wasn’t nervous, it was just another day.

We strode through the door.  We were here for our cat.

“Fluffy?” the young man said.  “Yeah, he was adopted this morning.  They adopted his brother, too.”  I just stood there.  This wasn’t in the script.

Was he serious?  There were two?  Someone took them both?   At first I was deflated but then I thought, how great is that?  My child and I considered each other for a moment, then went back to the kennels to have another look.

 

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