There are days I wake up with the urge to share personal stories here, and a freshly brewed cup of black coffee talks me out of it. I remember when we were very new to wedding photography, and I blogged about everyday life for no other reason than wanting to share our stories. It helped that for some time, it was just my mother reading our blog, so it was easy to be brave. Hahaha.
When we started attracting more couples whose guest lists ran upwards of 700, I started feeling a bit self-conscious of the amount of crazy I shared freely here, because the numbers started feeling so out there, which led to me reeling back the nuts. I realized somewhere along the way that yes, some people actually read this. (Yay!) Some days, it feels like a lot of responsibility. So I imagine here’s you, newly engaged person (congratulations!), coming here to see our work, and by chance, the first thing you see is a journal entry of me talking about a cat. Which this is. But I’m not quite there yet.
Last night, I read a line that goes, “Who were you before you learned that you are supposed to be normal?” and hi, I’m triggered. Nice to meet you. I’m the girl on the passenger seat openly sobbing as her husband drives because she read an article about a bullying experiment wherein a plant was subjected to harsh and hateful language by everyone who passed by. So I’m there crying over a PLANT, and my husband doesn’t even flinch because this comes with the territory of, well, me. My mind gets caught up in a train of thought and I lie in bed wide awake until 4:30am because I cannot get my brain to stop. So I hug him while he’s completely out cold and snoring, tell him I love him, and he’ll wake up long enough to mumble it back because as luck would have it, he really does love this weirdo.
I feel things intensely, and I fall in love with people, places, books, music, stories, and life over and over again. In our old workshops, when I used to write more personal things, I specifically told our students to “Let your freak flag fly.” By embracing the things that make us different, telling our own stories, and sharing what we love, we find our kindred spirits. Normal is overrated anyway. So, flags out.
I’ve been reading some old journal entries. I’ve written about what it’s like to be a married couple, and shared stories of adjusting to life as a family of three with our son, Corwin. There is so much history here, and I feel like this one belongs here, too. Two months ago, our entire household was turned upside down by a zooming, purring fluffball.
We had zero intentions of getting a pet, because our 10-year-old rabbit passed away a couple of years ago, and we didn’t think we were up to having another anytime soon. One look at this forlorn little face though, and we were collectively a goner. All three of us. There was just no walking away.
I used to think that over the years, I have grown to become a fairly reasonable adult who makes sound decisions based on thorough research and discussion. Well, okay, I still did my research, albeit on the spot. I have also always believed we would adopt a dog whenever time and space allowed someday. But as this tiny one would teach us, we are cat people. We find dogs adorable, but a cat is the perfect fit for Jeff’s and my introverted personalities and the slow living energy of our home.
We adored him immediately, just like that. Him, specifically, and it couldn’t have been any other cat or animal. The boys were 100% sure right away, and I held out and tried to be the voice of reason, but there was no reasoning to be had. Very simply, we held him, and he felt like ours.
We named him Maximus Fluffington, because naming tiny fluffy kitties after gladiators is hysterical. Also, he’s ridiculously fluffy. He responds to Max, Maxie, Fluffy, Fluffybutt. He started purring on his first night with us, but still looked so forlorn that I got him a happy kitty stuffed toy — half an attempt to encourage a cheerier disposition, and half an itching curiosity to see if it would annoy him. He wasn’t impressed, and I died laughing. 
During Max’s first couple of weeks here, Cor would wake up extra early to spend time with him. When Jeff asked why, he said, “I’m teaching him mouse combat.” We laugh so much together, the three of us, but the laughter has since doubled since this cat arrived. We didn’t get a cat for the LOLs, but we’re certainly not complaining. I didn’t know how much one tiny creature could brighten up a home.
One late night editing session, Jeff stood up to get something from another room. I noticed something move in his empty seat from the corner of my eye. I looked up and saw this little head bobbing up and down, peeking:
He doesn’t need that much attention, but gets it anyway. He simply likes being in the same room as us. And when we’re gathered at the table chatting, he’ll come and lounge around our feet or sit on an empty chair. I know he feels it, too. He belongs with us. ♥
P.S. The only other time I wrote about a cat here was about this kitten who fell onto our laundry area. Should’ve known by then how much I would love this.
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