I had 3 cats who were all siblings born in my house. I didn’t want to keep them at first, because I was a broke-ass grad student — but of course, I’m a sucker.
When the ex and I split, I suddenly and unexpectedly became a single cat dad. It was a very fucked up time, but the felines and I made it through. A few years later, when they were around 10 years old, one disappeared, and the other two passed away within a year.
A mouse ran across our floor less than 24 hours after the last brother died, so, even though I felt a little weird about it, my then-housemate and I adopted an awesome little teenage dumpster cat two days later. No more mice.
Housemate and new cat friend moved out ~6 months later, and unfortunately, new kitty died of a heart defect almost a year to the day when we got her.
My friend/former housemate had already been considering adopting a playmate for the dumpster baby, so he got on the local rescue organization website that night, and lo and behold, there was my cat who had disappeared almost exactly two years before.
So, even though it was weird to make a new cat friend so soon after mine had died, the short and very happy life of dumpster kitty led to the return of my boy who had been missing for two years. We just celebrated his 12th birthday a few weeks ago, and I am so, so thankful to have him back in my life.
Tax payment, when he discovered where I grow the catnip a few days ago:
Maybe you typo’d that description of S-Town, but it was definitely non-fiction/investigative journalism!
Growing up in a rural area and having experienced a period of social isolation in my young adulthood, that story absolutely haunts me.