with my cat Miro (tuxedo cat in my sig line, now deceased) about five years ago when I lost my beloved kitty Peewee to heart disease. Miro cried for Peewee all day and night, and kept getting under foot, looking up at me and crying as if to ask "where is he? Where did you take him"? I was so broken up about Wee's loss myself that I just couldn't take it. I read that there was to be a huge regional cat show in a town nearby where five rescue groups would be offering cats for adoption. I had hoped to bring home an older buddy for Miro (Peewee had been 15), but none of the cats offered "felt right". I was about to leave when a silver Maine Coon kitten (a purebred, not one of the desired rescue kitties) reached out of his pen and snagged my arm. The cage just had a "for sale" sign on it with no other information, but somehow I knew that that kitten would be the buddy Miro needed. I brought him home, and after a few days of half hearted hisses they became best friends:
I know that you've had bad luck with your fur friends in the past year, and maybe you aren't feeling ready for another (I wasn't), but perhaps if you go to a shelter and just look around you might get that same sense about one of them that I had about Oberon. I don't know what would have happened to Miro if I hadn't found him a buddy; he had refused to eat for over a week! I hope that Wimsey won't go down that route, but if he does, I highly recommend another male kitten as a possible solution.