Kitten Blues

Lost, with an emotional face stained with bitterly salty tears, I cannot stand the thought of waiting another moment for my two new friends - mischievous Bart and cool-as-a-cucumber Benny - to become a part of my life, re-creating the one which I formerly led with my furry brothers, Tom and Jerry, in tow by my side.

Waiting for a dream to come true - one which happens to many families every single day - has pushed me to the edge as my frustration comes to a head where I can no longer ignore the emptiness filling the broken hole in my heart, which has not yet beat with such happiness since the days when Tom and Jerry would lie by my cosily-layered feet on my bed, taking a relaxing morning snooze while I was transported to a world startlingly obscure to my own in a pulse-racing, thrilling book. Dealing with grief on two separate, soul-destroying occasions within the space of six months has issued relentless threats of self-destruction because I'm struggling to win the battle against my demons - the ones which I created myself and have yet to reach a triumphant victory.

OK, I know that I made a promise (inside the centre of my mind, anyway) to avoid placing a particular emphasis on this rather sensitive subject, but in what way could I suppress my emotions and carry on without giving such much as a single thought to the two Kits, who have yet to experience life inside a heated, loving home and enjoy the gifts (and numerous catnip toys) which their soon-to-be-cherished life would bring? From my attention to old-fashioned laws to gothic purple nail varnish - unfortunately a colour I love, though is on the verge of chipping away two days after being painted twice - to even my riotous sleeping pattern, kittens are seeping into almost every aspect of my life and taking over the things which bring me the utmost pleasure during my monstrous hormone-fuelled moments; I feel ever so helpless because there is no magical potion which can be drunk and make my spot-provoking problems disappear into the freezing November air, lifting an unbearable weight from my tediously heaving shoulders and relieving myself from the agony which has plagued me since death and grief turned up into my previously peaceful life.

No matter how hard you wish against it and spend nights standing in front of a window, crossing your hands into a prayer, death is inevitable; sorry to be a party pooper and spoil the happy mood in which you may currently be, but dying is one of the few things which makes everybody, whether human or of a different species, completely equal. I quickly realized that it was pointless wishing for a miracle to occur shortly before Tom passed away in March because the nature of his illness was so gravely serious that no so-called 'life-saving' medicine could have offered an extension of his life without risking any consequences; and, despite it being shockingly quick and an enormous shock to my system, the same thing applied to Jerry as well, so I guess that I learnt such a horrible, unwanted lesson the hard way. It's life and, however heartbreaking it is to endure such turmoil and pain over a highly significant loss, nobody can stop. The world gets up onto its knees and moves on, although it may seem a tad quieter and lonelier without spending time or talking with your friend everyday.

Has anyone ever wanted to storm outside and shout to the sky above them, proclaiming their dilemmas and revealing their desperation for an answer which offer the guidance they deserve? Perhaps typing away here is my subtle version - it's plenty more than I would usually dream of declaring to the world - yet a kettle heaving with boiling hot water is beginning to sway my views and taint my thoughts with anger because I can no longer afford to keep my hopes warm and alive and eagerly anticipate the beginning of a new week, my fingers tightly crossed that the kittens will finally be able to come home. But what if that home isn't ours?

Honestly, I don't want to make myself appear cold-hearted and cruel, yet my instincts are whispering in my mind that if the kittens are held back for another few weeks, I may be forced to look elsewhere. Christmas - my favourite time of the year - is only a month away and I don't wish to ruin it by sobbing my heart out in a blackened corner whilst trying to fall asleep at three in the morning; haven't I been punished enough by saying goodbye to the best and most affectionate cats that the world could ask for? Faith is one virtue which my fingers are grappling to get a grip on because it has slipped from my reach before and patience is sure to not make a needed appearance right at this moment because I'm giving free rein to my wilder feelings to rule the roost and take over me - call it a weakness frenzy, yet I'm past the point of caring. I'm tired of always having an unresponsive answer waiting to fall from the tip of my tongue all the time; I've had enough of grieving and being met with doors slamming into my face whenever my hopes are raised just a bit; and I don't want to be faced with another meltdown of agony when I'm having a hard time getting back onto my own feet. From gaining work experience to studying for a harder-than-it-seems subject, life just appears to be one huge battle which I'm constantly drawn to. Will the battle ever be won?

The kittens would bring so much happiness into my life - the euphoric emotions which were sadly absent for a while after both Tom and Jerry died - that my heart flutters whenever I think about it; although I've only had a lucky encounter with the pair on one occasion, I'm already in love with them, as recently displayed by the amount of catnip-scented toys I bought only a mere week ago. Their names - taken from famous characters in timeless cartoons - mean a lot to myself and my family, who have remained besotted with the only proper picture we took our phones. But what is a girl to do? I have to face up to the fact that these two - the pair whom my heart loves and wishes to see - may not sleep in the same house as myself nor join our family, the thought of which makes me want to howl with horror. For ages, nothing has been certain or crystal clear, which has led me to the conclusion: when will stability play a role in my world again?

Look, I'm not sure about what is likely happen, but I seriously don't know what to believe. Will Bart and Benny ever be taken home and place a smile to rival those of a Hollywood superstar on my lips? Or will I have no choice than to search elsewhere for the kittens I yearn to hold and cuddle in my arms? Unfortunately, I will only have to follow the path on which I'm currently walking - only time will tell.