Miško's 6th monthiversary

Last year a beloved pet of mine died, and I publicly vowed never to own a pet again. Mourning will make you say such things. I turned into a plant hoarder instead, cramming my balcony and most of the rooms in the apartment with all kinds of greenery. Without a cat to ruin all my nice things, I could finally dabble in a bit of indoor horticulture.

Now, plants are wonderful as decor, and gardening itself is a perfectly satisfying hobby. However, after a while I started reconsidering my vow. First, there were some things that led me to conclude I might not be a natural born talent for gardening, after all. My once lush specimens of Fatsia japonica, pots overflowing with Hedera helix, a number of supposedly sturdy succulents - plus a few other species - within months all became but a faint memory. I'll save my experience with growing vegetables for another post. Suffice it to say that my home garden proved to be an experiment in survival of the fittest.

More importantly, I just missed having a pet. Plants cannot be a substitute; nor can humans while we're at it. There's simply a unique quality to the bond that develops between a person and his or her animal companion. And so by February, I found myself obsessively googling for dog breeds that would be suitable for a small apartment. In spite of realising that no dog breed would in fact be suitable, ever, I kept visualising my hypothetical dog, and even gave him a name (Bruno). And just when I was on the verge of getting a Boston terrier, Miško showed up.

Showed up in a Twitter feed, that is. In a long line of abysmally depressing political tweets, there were these images of a cutest little male kitten that quickly needed to be adopted. 

I was in two minds for a few minutes, various lists of pros and cons flashing before my eyes. And then I simply messaged the person behind the Twitter account to check if he was still available for adoption. That was 12 June, and by the following Monday, 18 June, he was brought to my place by a woman from one of the local shelters. He was so shy and fearful; a three-month old, with impressively large ears and a long tail. And meowing incessantly while inspecting the new surroundings.

By Day 3 he was comfortable enough to sit and nap near me, but still not too keen on cuddling.

It was by the end of that first week that he started sitting on my desk, closely monitoring what I was up to, but still running away if I attempted to hold him.

Fast forward to September, and we're inseparable. I literally can't do anything without him close by. 

Sometimes too close...

The only exception is when I go to bed: since I had to evacuate all my remaining plants to the bedroom (most of which happen to be toxic to cats), that one is a no-go zone for him. Unless I'm there wide awake to keep an eye on him, reading - or trying to...

Teatime is when he turns into a cuddle monster; by now those afternoon snuggles have become a well established routine.

So, that's us and our first three months together. Maybe I don't have green fingers (the plants I bought in Ikea, RIP), but I dare say I've given this little lad a good home.

P.S. A final thought, for those considering getting a pet: adopt, don't buy.