you (two) are the best thing that has even been mine.
(Yes, I just used a Taylor Swift lyric for my relationship with my cats, GET OVER IT.)
I have to say (and maybe you knew it from reading my early posts after bringing Norm home), I did not expect Oz and Norm to have this kind of relationship. That every time I woke up in the morning I would sit up to find the two of them wrapped in each other's furry arms (and legs).
They share everything: litter boxes, food bowls, toys, scratching posts, all of it. Not in my wildest dreamings did I think they would get along so well. They groom each other, wrestle, and eat together. Guys, I lucked out. And I don't feel like I even did anything to make it happen besides cry a lot and doubt myself, my usual MO for dealing with change, especially change I instigated.
Bringing a second cat into our home and a third into our already super tight duo was impulsive and brash, but the reason I'd waited so long was real. Oz and I had been through real shit together. Bed-rest. Drunken sob-fests. Fleas. Baths (his, not mine). Dentistry (both of us). THREE Christmas photos. Spraying spinal fluid. How could another animal who hadn't experienced all that (and much more) with us, really 'get' our connection? Clearly I was overthinking it. Or Norm is just super great (which he definitely is).
I was talking about that with my therapist, about how strange but also wonderful it is to have someone live with Oz and I who was never touched by the medical trauma of 2009 and 2010. He was born only 4 months ago! He's untouched by most tragedy (besides his short term in a shelter), and I intend to keep him that way. And if Oz's paternal, maternal, and fraternal behavior is any indication, so is he.