taught me that chaos is not the enemy. He reminds me to play, to chase the laser pointer, to knock the glass off the table just to see what happens. He is the joy I was too rigid to embrace. Part V: Putting It All Together So, what happens when you put a Lacey and a Manx together?
If you had told me two years ago that I would be living in a home ruled by two felines—one who thinks she’s a porcelain doll and another who thinks he’s a rabbit—I would have laughed you out of the room. I was a "dog person." I liked my pets straightforward: walks, fetch, slobber. Cats were cryptic. lacey and manx
It happened at 2:00 AM, as all cat miracles do. I woke up to a crash. I ran into the living room to find that Manx had knocked over a full glass of water. He was sitting in the puddle, proud as a pig in mud. Lacey, the neat freak, walked over to him, looked at the mess, looked at him, and then—inexplicably—licked his head. taught me that chaos is not the enemy
Lacey retreated to the top of the refrigerator. Manx sprinted laps around the living room, occasionally leaping toward the fridge to tap her tail. She hissed. He wiggled his nub. No progress. Part V: Putting It All Together So, what
You realize that home isn't about finding two identical puzzle pieces. It’s about finding two completely different textures—lace and concrete—and stitching them together anyway.
If you are considering adding a second cat, don’t look for a clone of the one you have. Look for the one who annoys them just enough to wake them up. Look for the Manx to your Lacey. It will be loud. It will be messy. And it will be the best decision you ever made.