I Think I’ve Turned In To Gepetto . . .

I was cleaning out the litter boxes this morning and came to the startling realization that my life has started to resemble Gepetto’s, as portrayed in Disney’s Pinnochio.  If only Gepetto had ovaries.  Remember the scene in the beginning where childless Gepetto is celebrating the birthday of his Goldfish Cleo?  Along with his cat Figaro?

This is Figaro:

This is my youngest cat, Boo: (on the silk/cashmere scarf I knitted)

Except for the White on the tip of the tail, it’s a pretty good match.

This is a pic of Figaro and Cleo:

And this is a pic of Boo and Jonah (our fish) I took last night. . .

**Please note that the water in the fish tank is supposed to be green.  It’s an additive to the water that promotes healthy stuff for fish.  Well. . . except in this case it didn't do much good.  Jonah died shortly after this photo was taken. 

What struck me in remembering this scene was how lonely Gepetto was, and in his longing for a child, he lavished his love and affection on his pets.  And as beautiful as that was, it did not change the sense of sadness, of loss at what was missing.

I can so relate to that.  I pour myself into my “babies”.  When I was growing up on the farm, people would abandon litters of kittens on our property all the time.  I remember one litter still had their umbilical cords attached.  They had to be fed around the clock, every 2 hours.  They slept with me, came to work with me.  Sleep deprived, in the wee hours of the morning, I would sing to them and rock them as I bottle-fed them. 

And they thrived.  It was wonderful to see them grow sleek and sassy, with round little tummies.  To see their own personalities emerge.  To see firsthand just what love could accomplish in another life. 

Now if only my own goddamn Blue Fairy would show up, complete with "real boy" (or girl). . .