A couple of months after my love died, I decided to adopt again. I went to a different shelter this time and found two rescue cats, a brother and sister, who had been there for a year and a half. Why didn’t anyone want them? Because they were ten years old and particularly shy. Not to mention, one had a bald patch from licking too much. And it’s impossible to compete with a pair of playful kittens! Still, I brought them home two weeks later. After a brief reconnaissance of their new surroundings, they both disappeared in the closet. Huddled up behind my shoes under the bottom shelf of the closet, they were barely visible. Every couple of hours I checked in on them, reassured them, offered them their favourite food, but they didn’t move an inch. I was getting dispirited when out of the blue one of them reversed out from under the shelf, nuzzled up to me like I was a long lost friend and started to roll all over the floor. Before long the other followed. Later that night they both cuddled up against me, each on one side.