For me, at least.
First, some back story. We have a cat currently, who is adorable and The Best Cat Ever (except when he takes my socks that I’m knitting out of the bag and wraps the yarn around the legs of the coffee table). We got him a year ago, and he was overweight and needed a family badly. Now, he’s not so overweight and has a family, but is a little bald on the back from chewing his hair off; apparently it’s a combination of flea allergy and anxiety due to not having any feline companions in the house. A week and a half ago, we applied to adopt a kitten named Blackberry, who was sweet and immediately won us over. We were supposed to pick him up on Saturday, but he needed to be neutered, so they had taken him away to do that, and we were told to come back on Wednesday evening.
This morning, I got a call that he had a heart attack when they were bringing him out of the anesthesia, and had died. So no Captain Blackberry Fluffypants for us. Apparently he had some other health issue that surfaced when they put him under for the surgery. It’s probably best this happened before we got really attached.
We’re going in on Saturday to look at Lenny, who is apparently of similar size and temperament. He’s a couple of months older than Blackberry was (Blackberry was about 8 months old, and Lenny is around 10 months old). I’m hoping he’s as wonderful as Blackberry and that Johnny Cat (our current cat) thinks so, too. Think very nice thoughts for us. If it works out, we’ll rename him Lemmy, after Lemmy of Motorhead. My mom doesn’t get it, but my husband thinks it’s hilarious.
This is why he is going to be Lemmy:
Lenny the Cat (as a tiny kitten) Lemmy Kilmister of Motorhead
It was meant to be.