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pack up the cats or "Oh the Guilt" EVERY FUCKING PICTURE I PUT UP WAS REJECTED BY THE STUPID ALGORITHM ON THIS LAME SITE. PICTURES OF CATS ARE BANNED!!! It's the name of a Nirvana song, that’s why I put it in quotes, but it's also exactly how I'm feeling. Without over explaining I'll just blurt it out; we had to corral Nestle, Rebel and Sinatra and take them back to the shelter. They will not be returning to the house. It is happening sooner than expected, and sort of against our will, but ultimately we just have to hope this is a step in the right direction for them to achieve a better life. That doesn't lessen the guilt, anxiety or sadness that I feel one bit, it's just platitudes that don't make me feel one iota better.  Over the last couple nights, I've been very aware of what was going to happen, and it's been tearing me apart. On their last night, I tried to spend as much time with the cats as I could, and between overfeeding them and trying to play with them I did my best, but at one point I just broke down crying in the backyard and had to stop, go inside, blow my nose and collect myself before I could go back out and play with them some more. Gut wrenching is a term I understand fully now. I hovered between sick to my stomach and ready to scream or cry, depending on the moment.  This evening was the first I didn’t have to wake up at any specific time to give Rebel his medication, and later today will be the first time in a long time that I won’t be standing at the computer in my room and have Sinatra come in and demand I pay attention to him. I predicted Breo would spend another few days walking around, calling out for them like he did the first time, but I think he’s smart enough that he knows what happened this time. What he might believe, is that they’ll be coming back like they did last time, but they won’t. Meanwhile he is sleeping more, staying close, and obviously concerned about what’s going on in the house. I am packing, which means things in his area and mine are in complete disarray. I feel so badly for him, and do everything I can to show him love, and make sure he knows he’s still wanted, still safe. Am I communicating it well enough with my actions? I can only hope, and keep trying.  You’d think there’d be a limit to the amount of tears a person could cry, especially a skinny one like me, but I think I probably hit a world record. I’m not going to wallow, here or in real life, because I really can’t afford to. I did the best that I could with each and every cat that was in my presence, and made great progress with all of them. If there is a god, he/she/it doesn’t seem to give a damn about animals, domestic or otherwise, and how they are treated. I do, and if I were a praying person I’d pray for Sinatra and Rebel. Nestle is a cool little kitten, he doesn’t need any help but Sinatra was scared of people for so long, and I was just getting him to be my close buddy. And Rebel… I really can’t say much about him because it hurts. It hurts so bad. I loved that furry mess and know anyone that takes a chance on him is LUCKY!!!! That’s all I can say or I won’t stop crying for like 20 / twenty minutes.   |
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