Expanding hearts

A bit before Christmas, Sweet Hubby and I adopted kittens, two 22-week-old tabby sisters we've named Angel and Bandy (Bandit).  It is astounding to me how quickly we have fallen sloppily, giddily, abundantly in love with them.

We will always hold in our memories the love we had for our dear departed Stachie and Flow.  They were with us for 11 and 13 years respectively, and we adored them for every day of those years, even when Flow left little turds around the house in unexpected places; even when Stachie woke us up at 4:30am begging for food in her little peepy cheepy voice; even when they scratched up our denim couch.  They were our family, and precious beyond belief, and it has taken us quite a while to stop listening for them or catching imagined glimpses of them out of the corners of our eyes.  Photos of them are all around our home, and we always look at those with a poignant sigh.

However, there is something about kittens which brings an entirely new dimension to our love.  Stachie and Flow were 4 years old when we adopted them, and they brought with them the effects of those years with another family, some good and some not quite so fine.  Angel and Bandy are young and learning and growing, and they will learn and grow as part of our family in this home we've made and are making together.  They were so immediately relaxed with us, allowing us to pick them up, rolling over to show us their bellies, not easily startled, curious about everything, endlessly playful, endlessly affectionate.  It took our dear Flow four years before he finally sat in our laps.  It took Angel and Bandy a day.

With both sets of pets, I have found myself wondering "How do parents become big enough to hold the love they have for their children?"  As much as we lovelovelove our cats, I'm pretty sure the feelings we have for them are only a portion in size compared to what parents must feel for their babies, children, teenagers - well, maybe not for teenagers so much.  I'm sort of knocked out thinking that my parents must have loved me with all the tenderness and fullness I feel for Angel and Bandy, times one hundred and eighty.  Not that love can be quantified, of course, but I don't know how else to describe what I imagine is the weight and depth of parental affection.  I'm surprised they are ever able to let us cross the street alone, much less drive and date and go on sleepovers.  They're just so, so big, these feelings.   Oh my gosh, am I enjoying being kitty drunk.