Some people say you for every good thing that happens, something bad has to happen. I tend to be a pretty optimistic person, and don't really subscribe to that idea. Nevertheless, I do know that without bad things happening in life, we could never fully appreciate the good.
I haven't said anything about it here because I didn't want to jinx things (not that I'm really superstitious, but just in case, ya know?). Eric and I have been casually looking for our first house for the past month or so, and seriously looking for a couple of weeks. We found the perfect house this weekend. I first saw it posted in the multiple listing service on Saturday morning, and I couldn't stop thinking about it. By that evening, Eric and I drove over to look at it to make sure it really was as great as it looked. On Sunday, we were the first people at the open house, and we were there for 2 1/2 hours going back and forth between the house and our car trying to figure out what to do. There was no doubt in our minds that this was THE house. The housing market in Seattle is utterly insane and shows no sign of slowing down. We knew we had to act fast because this house was almost too good to be true: a nice little project house, built in 1915 in one of our favorite neighborhoods. We got our offer in that night and by last night we found out our offer was accepted. We knew our offer could not have been the strongest, but I wrote a letter to the sellers telling them how much we love the house and a little bit about ourselves, and that letter was the clincher. We are overjoyed and feel so lucky. Here's a little peek of the front of the house:
Now onto the bad:
This is Andy, a.k.a. Andypants. He was our friend and neighbor's kitty who lived outside. In the past two years we have lived here, we spent so much time with him that he felt like our own. He was probably the smallest full grown cat I've ever seen, but he had a tremendous meow. We always called it the old grandpa meow. That was because when we moved in here, Andy was 18 years old. Everytime Eric and I woudl go outside, he would come down the stairs to greet us. Everyday when we got home from work, he would run out to our car to lead us down the pathway to our house. The picture above is one of him leading us down the path.
Andy died last night at the ripe old age of 19.
I knew I would miss him when I got home today. I went and sat in the back yard as usually, and out came my next door neighbor's new kitten to greet me. It reminded me that life goes on. Andy is gone, and now we have a new little wipper-snapper coming around. No kitty could ever take his place though.