On December 16, 2014, we lost our senior cat, Toebiter, to cancer. It was devastating to the family and especially so close to christmas.
I was in no hurry to adopt again but told myself when I did, I would take in a special needs cat or maybe a black one because I knew how rarely they get adopted. We had already been visiting our local shelters the last few months to socialize with the cats so they wouldn't feel forgotten. So, while in another town doing some errands in February, we decided to drop by their shelter to visit their kitties too. We got lost once or twice and it took us awhile to find the place.
As soon as we walked in, I spotted some tiny kittens in one of the front cages. They told us they had just been brought in and weren't even in the system yet. They had been found in a sealed box thrown into the local park to, I assume, die. I picked up the little black one and I just knew she was the one. This cat had been meant for me to find. If we hadn't got lost, she and I would not have crossed paths. They tried to dissuade us saying she hadn't been vetted yet. Hell, they didn't even know what gender she was! I told them we were taking this one and my daughter paid the adoption fee. On the way home, we started googling trying to find a name. We decided on Ciara which is Gaelic for Dark One.
She went to the vet the next day and she had no fleas, no worms, no diseases at all. Perfect health. My tortoiseshell cat decided that she had found a little sister to cuddle with now. I got a House Panther and began to move on from Toebiter's death. I believe I was meant to find Ciara that day.