When the universe talks...

...I listen.

When I said goodbye to Petey the Thursday before school started, I decided that I would not hurry to adopt another kitten.

Since moving into my house, I have never had fewer than three cats, so I will admit that it felt odd to only have Kip and Harvey. (Along with the dogs, of course, who make enough noise for the entire neighborhood.) Nevertheless, I did not fill out an adoption application at the SPCA and I did not peruse kittens on Forever Love Rescue and I did not in any way go in search of another four-legged family member. I had decided that I would give a kitten until June 2026 to find his way to me, and if he hadn't found me by then, I would adopt two kittens from the SPCA. Just as the universe had instructed me to go to Duluth, I believed that the universe would advise me on the situation of kittens.

However...

When I arrived at school for (I think) my first day of in-service, I waved hello to my coworker Tasha and walked around to the other side of the Jeep to retrieve some things that needed to go inside. Tasha was walking toward the school, but she had turned around at some point and was walking back toward me when I finally got around to moving in the direction of the building. "I have a question for you," Tasha said.

The question involved caring for a feral kitten who had hitched a ride home on her engine -- a ten-minute drive! -- and was currently being housed in a bathroom because she was so skittish that Tasha worried she wouldn't be able to catch her if the kitten was kept in a larger room.

I offered advice about spaying and litter boxes and things of that nature, but I did not ask anything specific about the kitten because I had already decided to wait for a sign from the universe. I was not actively looking for a kitten. I did not need a kitten. And besides that, I have a tendency to only adopt male cats. I just like being able to say, "I'm going to hang with the boys tonight."

I also like that Augusta is my only girl. And she's my favorite girl. If I were to adopt a female kitten, I could no longer deem Augie my favorite girl, so adopting a female kitten really isn't in the cards at this point in time.

Flash forward several hours. Tasha and I bump into each other in the hallway and she tells me she has already ordered the litter box I recommended. "But I really don't want to keep this kitten," she told me. "I will if I can't find a home for her, but I'd love to find a home for her. Do you want to see a picture?"

Of course I wanted to see a picture. Even when I'm not actively searching for a kitten, I will never say "No" when given the opportunity to look at a picture of a kitten. So I said "Yes" and promptly learned that the kitten was orange.

Orange kittens are kind of my weakness... but I was not looking for a kitten. And if I was going to get a kitten, it would be a male kitten because that's just how I do.

Let's do some more flashing forward, shall we?

Approximately two days later, I see Tasha in the library after a faculty meeting and she says in a very disgruntled way, "The kitten went to the vet yesterday. It's a boy."

Orange male cats are my Kryptonite.

"Tasha," I said, "let's talk about this kitten. I may be interested."

So... now I have a kitten! His name is Hobie and he is a little spitfire. He's terrified of Augusta -- my favorite, only, most difficult girl -- and he purrs louder than any cat EVER and he chirps and meows all the time and he sleeps with me at night but wakes me up to play by pawing my face, biting my nose, licking my chin, and eventually by wrapping his whole body around my head and playing with my hair. I love him immensely (even though I haven't been sleeping especially well for the past week) and I fall more and more in love with him every day!

That's my story. It was a good one, wasn't it?

Gotta love that universe of ours...

(I should perhaps add that even though Hobie is taking his time getting to know the dogs, he and Harvey and Kip are tight. It was definitely meant to be, no doubt about it.)