where the cats at? fluff piece. . . . not suitable for steem?

I've gotten so fed up with click bait news stories and ads that I've curated other social platforms down to cats and shoes.   Its very calming and pretty.   The shoes will one day be mine,  the cats I will admire from afar as  I already have my own harem.  I'm new here, to writing in longer form and to the cryptocurrency world, so excuse this fluff piece.  I'm practicing. In 2008, a neighborhood orange cat kept sneaking into my cousins house and getting in her car.  She trapped him and I took him home.  He curled up in my lap that first night, and belly rolled his way into my soul.  

 He was cuddly and friendly. He came when I called and played fetch. He would jump from the floor to your shoulder.  He was built like a tank, and during any kind of play, would get so into it I swear I could see little kitty biceps pumping as he panted after the feather that had wronged him so.  I called him kitten nugget.   

I traveled a lot then, and I didn't want him to be lonely so I got him a buddy.  After a few questionable days, they became inseparable.  I often felt like a mom that had caught teenagers making out. . .  show me your paws!   

 

I don't know how this got started, but they became Orangecat and Whitecat.   If they were celebrities, they'd be Mickey Rourke from Iron Man and Ziggy Stardust. Whitecat was long and lean and definitely a sidekick.  Orangecat was all alpha.  5 years of silliness and too many photos to admit to, I came home from a trip and Orangecat did not look good.  Took him to the vet, which sent me to the animal hospital and 3 days later he was gone.  They said liver failure.  That was 2013.  

Whitecat lost his buddy and gained a bunch of weight. 

 I started crying from a place in my heart I didn't know existed. It was like when you decided to clean the top of the counter off, then open the junk drawer and realize that needs to be cleaned out real bad.  Which then leads you to that closet that you really haven't looked in since the 80's and then you're wearing your first pair of doc martens, a neon slap bracelet with tears dripping on your lisa frank stationary collection. . .   

I 'm sparing you that picture.  

That was the beginning of an unravel.  I haven't decided how much I'll share here, still feeling this community out.  I've been down several self help rabbit holes, parts of me are still in metaphysical black holes and I'm still trying to be whole, everyday.  Deep, deep breathing helps, and whitecat's weird little cuddles.