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Old 02-21-2013, 08:44 PM
 
Location: I'm not lost, I'm exploring!
3,401 posts, read 13,355,731 times
Reputation: 5774

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I drove for an hour and 45 minutes, to spend 15 minutes with my former cat, Spot, at his new home tonight. It was one of those "sure, I'll be in the area, I'd love to swing by and say hi!" on the phone, but in reality, was a carefully budgeted gas expense, a shift change, and a change of clothes in the car so I could leave straight from work to make it in time to see him. He met me at the door, with a fluffy bristly happy tail, like he always used to. I bit my tongue out of politeness - she had renamed him fairly quickly after taking him in, so I didn't want to be rude and call him Spot. I picked him up and squeezed him. He still smelled the same. He still buried his face into mine with kisses. He still jumped off of me without a care in the world and ran off to finish his dinner. I kept up appearances, sipping coffee politely, and chatting about the weather with his new owner. She is a lovely older British lady, who had never really gotten over the death of her Sammy, who looked just like Spot, a few years back. She jumped in response to the original ad that I placed back in August of last year when I began the torturous task of re homing him.

You see, after putting 2 of the most difficult years of my short adult life into making a relationship fail to work with the man that I love, one of the biggest slaps in the face of reality, was that breaking up with him, that a repercussion of him leaving me, was how he was tearing a hole in our little cat family that we started. He was tearing a hole in everything. Not just the cats. The tiny front porch that I painted white, to match the miniature picket fence that I saved up and planted last summer. Tearing in half the ownership of the handmedown and handbuilt furniture that we acquired since moving into our tiny farm home together. Shattering our daily routine of work, coming home and cutting the grass, petting the cows, watching Spot roll around in the dirt happy as a clam, grilling outside when the weather was nice, fishing at the creek down the road, laying outside in the field under the stars and thanking God for our little private slice of heaven. I had to keep yanking myself back into reality. No more farm. He had left me. No more sanity. He had logged into my bank account, and taken my money. He left me $30. He had packed his things. He hadn't said a word. He left me to pick up the pieces. I had to pack. I had to call my mom. I had to call the landlord. I had to cancel the dinner reservations we had with friends this weekend. I had to borrow money. I had to split up the cats. I had to rehome Spot. I had to NOT STOP THINKING about my list of things to think about that began rapidly growing, otherwise I would just melt down. Everything else I would cope with, and deal with on a blow by blow basis. But the top of my list was Spot.

Living undercover with a functioning alcoholic didn't come easy. There were tricks and tips that I learned along the way. You learn how to lie to your family. How to make it look like everything was fine when it wasn't. How to cover puffy eyes for work in the morning from crying all night. How to fabricate lies to my job when I had to take extended phone calls to settle "issues" when he didn't show up for work that morning. How to plan and budget around when he would disappear and go binge-drinking, and I wouldn't hear from him for a few days, until he called asking to be picked up at some nondescript location. How to protect the cats and our home, when he came home drunk, and angry, and violent, out of the blue. Best of all, how to convince myself that if I really loved him, I would stay and help him through it, when all the others simply walked away.

I didn't blame him when he accidentally let little moo out, the night he was completely drunk. I blamed myself, for not staying up and watching over him to make sure he wouldn't do anything stupid like I usually did. That was a mistake that I paid for, for the next 6 months until her return, that I continue to hold myself responsible for. I didn't blame him the night I broke my arm when he pushed me off the bed. I shouldn't have tried to wake him up, confronting him for drinking, and forgetting to pick me up from work. I didn't blame him for hating the Pastor at the tiny country church that I began attending. The Pastor was only trying to help, but was inevitably turning the finger of blame and irresponsibility on him. I didn't blame him the fateful sunny afternoon that I got out of work, and found my truck waiting in the parking lot (he was intended to pick me up when my shift was over, we were down to 1 working vehicle, and sharing) with no note of explanation. No note at all, no warning when I walk into what was once our home, now empty, his things gone. No understanding when I find the money's been transferred, and removed. And no answer from him.

I remember curling up on the beautiful bathroom tile that I had done by hand shortly after we moved in, and sobbing so hard that my heart hurt. I remember the kitties coming in and trying to reason with me. I remember wandering around my house, looking in disbelief at everything left, that I treasured, that suddenly meant nothing. Thinking that there was no way anyone would actively throw away a home that struggled to be so happy and comfortable. I painted. I tiled. I plastered. I moulded, I waxed, I decorated, I lit candles, I had comfy throw blankets, I turned a 100 year old farm house, into a dream. I made a beautiful home. I found no solace in it that night. Everything felt like it was hurling insults at me as if to remind me that it would soon be long gone.

There were things to do. Logistics, for moving furniture, disconnecting the cable, and cleaning, and.. gosh where to start. I remember writing a pretty touching ad for Spot, explaining in detail how great of a buddy he was, and not just your ordinary cat. It was difficult. For years, I have been freelance rescue coordinating with the local shelters and resuce groups, writing ads for pets who need homes. ...why was I hitting a brick wall, and unable to write one for my own? Then my mind would scream back at me... WHY ARE YOU WRITING ONE FOR YOUR OWN?!?!? I backed up a few steps, and started with the basics. I explained how special he was, and how he came to be rescued, after being dumped off the side of the road by my farm house, and his life with me for that brief year we were given together. I went on to emphasize that I could not bring all of my animals back with me, having to move back to my mom's house rather suddenly, and that I absolutely would not leave him there to fend for himself, as his previous owners had. I poured pretty extensively into the 5 or 6 responses I got for him, and prayed for guidance. I always thought that God put me in his path, to rescue him and give him a happy home. It really stung, in having to wrap my mind around the fact that perhaps I was nothing more than a middle-man. A stepping stone, to his permanent home. He had a permanent home. A loving home. An awesome crazy-loving attentive home full of toys, treats, snugglies, sun baths, and devotion. He would spend his summer days lazying around in the sun outside on his farm while I was at work, and would be waiting in the grass sitting with the flowers, waiting when I got home. He always came bounding towards me and would jump into my arms. He always knew when it was time to come inside when it got dark. He was always the gentle giant with my tiny Kirby as a baby kitten when they wrestled. He stayed by my side when I was sick, when I slept, when I cooked, when I just bumbled around the house. I felt like a failure, having to sit down and rationalize, that just because I loved him more than anyone else, didn't necessarily mean that I was the best home for him. Because clearly, I couldn't keep our home together. I couldn't protect him from the repercussions of a broken relationship. For all the times I cuddled him, and promised that mommy loved him, and always would take care of him, I failed. ...I couldn't protect any of us.

I relocated my 3 kitties (Moo, Kirby, and Cinders) to my mother's along with most of my things. I remember when I went back for Spot, he was laying on the bathroom rug. (it was the only room that really didn't look like it was affected by the mass-exodus from the house. He looked at me and wailed in despair.

He knew.

I sat down next to him, and began telling him all about the new home he was going to. How there was another nice kitty and dog waiting to meet him. How he would have floor to ceiling length windows to sit and gaze out of all day. How they had a dedicated "bird room" full of exotic birds in cages, that would entertain him for hours on end. How they had a large marble fireplace that he could curl up in front of, and his own private guest room he could take over. He would never be hungry. He would never be bored. He would be loved. Shoot - I wanted her to adopt ME!

I picked him up quickly, and zipped him up into the soft cat carrier that I had brought with me. I tried not to look around at the empty shell of a house as I left with Spot carefully secured under my arm. In a way, I regret not being able to give him advance warning, as we were driving away. These were his fields that he weaved through as the corn grew. This was his tree that he scaled every morning to spy on the neighbor. That was his secret shady spot in the bushes, where he stashed all of his fuzzy mice that somehow made it out the front door. He never got a chance to appreciate them for the temporary happiness that they provided, or to say goodbye to them with one last nap, one last frolic.

I remember standing at the gas station in the back parkinglot, where me and the lady that answered my ad agreed to meet. He wasn't being very loud, but he kept crying, and asking to come out of his kennel. I kept reassuring him that everything was going to be fine. She'd be here in a moment, and we had to be on our best behavior. I kept talking to him, to keep my sanity in check. When she pulled up and introduced herself, I immediately knew that Spot was going to be okay. She was a crazy old cat lady, much like I will probably be in my much later years. - and she absolutely adored him. She had money. And she had the best of intentions. I could not have asked for a better home, for any of them. It still didn't make it any easier in handing him over. Every murmur and meow, tugged on my heartstrings to the point where I was blinking back stinging tears. I took him out of his soft carrier of mine, to deposit him into the carrier she brought with her. It was a risky move, doing in the middle of a parkinglot, in a public place, but he never squirmed, or tried to bolt. Quite the contrary - he held deathly still, and looked at me. His eyes were full of fear, and so many questions. I couldn't answer any of them. All I could do was say that I was sorry. And that I loved him so very much. We locked eyes, for what felt like the longest moment, then I saw myself handing him over, wishing her well, and thanking her again. With that, they were gone.

Standing in the abandoned parking lot, holding an empty kennel, I wasn't able to move. I kept waiting for what was supposed to happen next, but I was all by myself, and had no idea. My auto-pilot had failed. I had absolutely no idea what to do now. I climbed into my truck, sat there for a few minutes, then just started crying. Frustrated beyond belief, beyond despair, for a world that had completely shot any dreams I had. I felt like the rug had been ripped out from beneath my feet. How could I ever let myself fall into a position where a man had the power to make me forcibly disrupt or destroy the family I had made? Never.

Spot's new owner had given me all of her contact information, phone and address, and told me to come and visit him whenever and for how ever long I wanted to. I suppose, the reason that I'm choosing to write about this all tonight, is because I just returned from my second trip to go visit him. True to her word, he has more toys than I could ever afford. He has perfectly maintained plump cushions, and perches, and loves his new cat and dog family. He has his floor length windows where he can gaze out at the garden. He is well taken care of. I don't know whether he remembers me or not. I almost hope that he doesn't.

Visiting him once, a few weeks after he has settled it, is the responsible thing for a previous and caring owner to do. But fast forward almost 7 months, still crying myself to sleep, and with an attempt to hide my frazzled pleas to see him again, I have to ask, if he's found contentment in his new surroundings, why can't I? I buried my face in his fur tonight, as I said goodbye, and tried so very hard not to cry. Because I knew, out of politeness, out of respect, out of an appropriate level of concern - call it whatever you want - ... I knew this was the last time I should probably ask to see him. The guilt that I live with, for not being able to protect him from the fallout of a disaster of a relationship, or to be able to hold a house together for us to be happy in, is not something he should have to live with.

I come home and hug the kitties I do have. Scared to whisper anything to them as I kiss them goodnight. What promises cam I make to them now, that won't be challenged 2 weeks, 2 months, 2 years from now?
I go to bed, feeling like I am not in control of my life anymore. Maybe I haven't been for awhile. I'm simply trying to hang on for dear life to what is left of it. I go to bed waiting for the night to come that I don't continue to cry.
I'm so sorry Spot.

Last edited by Marylandkitten; 02-21-2013 at 09:22 PM..
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Old 02-21-2013, 09:52 PM
 
Location: On the sunny side of a mountain
3,604 posts, read 9,038,794 times
Reputation: 8264
I think that by writing this tonight you are in control of your life. You are stronger than you know, you gave Spot a good life with you and had the courage to give him up to continue to live a good life. You are a good person who had some bad things happen, don't let it define you, you deserve to be happy, respected, appreciated and loved, you deserve a good life too.
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Old 02-21-2013, 10:00 PM
 
2,029 posts, read 4,028,227 times
Reputation: 3398
MK, I am so sorry for everything you've had to endure. My heart aches for you and Spot. I am at a loss for words. I wish I could wave a magic wand or snap my fingers and take away all your pain.

I know this won't be much comfort but you did an amazing thing for Spot, first finding him and giving him a good home and lots of love. Second, you found him another home and it sounds like a good one at that. Please try not to be so hard on yourself. (((HUGS)))
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Old 02-22-2013, 04:03 AM
 
Location: Chapel Hill, N.C.
36,499 posts, read 53,933,224 times
Reputation: 47917
This too shall pass. Sounds trite I know but each week that goes by will bring strength, healing and promise for a better future. You are a compassionate young woman who has been unfairly and cruelly slapped down but you can get back up and continue your promising future. Spot is taken care of and he will always hold a special place in your heart. I promise there will be other lovers and new cats to love. Please guard your heart for awhile but don't be afraid to love again.
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Old 02-22-2013, 04:39 AM
 
Location: Pennsylvania
30,374 posts, read 16,098,904 times
Reputation: 44171
Sounds to me like you're in control for the 1st time in a long time. It's not easy but you did the best you could for Spot. You promised him protection and love and you have fulfilled that promise to the best of your ability.

Out of the tears and pain is coming a strength you're probably not aware of yet.
You'll get there. You will always love Spot and feel the loss but he's got a good home and you know that. Keep that with you as you move on.

(((hugs)))
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Old 02-22-2013, 05:04 AM
 
7,329 posts, read 16,386,468 times
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I can't do much besides echo what everyone else said above. You should be proud of how you helped Spot, twice. It's a loss for you, piled onto a lot of other losses, but he has a good life and that's 100% thanks to you. I'm so sorry for all that you've been through. I hope you're starting to heal and begin to find your new life.
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Old 02-22-2013, 05:45 AM
 
638 posts, read 988,364 times
Reputation: 485
Tears are still streaming down my face after reading your post. All I can say is you are stronger and braver than you realize right now. Hang in there for better days ahead! Sending love,hugs,& prayers your way!
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Old 02-22-2013, 09:28 AM
 
1,297 posts, read 1,816,157 times
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I know you miss Spot terribly but by finding him a home with such a kind, selfless act you have taken the best care of him. It's very difficult now but you will find solace soon enough when you think about how he continues to thrive in his new home and will smile at the thought.
You're the one that made that possible by ensuring his well being in the midst of all else that crumpled in your life. Your kindness and sacrifice will be repaid to you many times over, count on that.
If you do decide to revisit Spot do it with a smile in your heart, enjoy your time with him and be happy for what you did.
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Old 02-22-2013, 11:18 AM
 
2,280 posts, read 4,499,178 times
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If a cat seems very happy and content, there is nothing whatsoever to worry about, so long as you feel that the new pet parent is as kind and responsible as you are. Key words: Cat is acting very happy in new home.

The rest is just how you feel but is not about how Spot feels now.

If the new parent doesn't mind having you visit, you should! It will not harm Spot in any way whatsoever.

We are guardians of our pets and should not worry if they are as happy in the new home as they were in ours - hate to say it, this is often true.
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Old 02-22-2013, 12:27 PM
 
2,888 posts, read 6,523,543 times
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I am so used to coming to this site and crying for the cats.

Today, I cry not for Spot, but for you. You have been through hell and back. A few tears are for the sadness that you have endured. But most are tears of joy that you, like little Moo, have found your way. You are in pain and still reeling from all that has happened. But you are stronger for all of it.

I am a firm believer in that much good comes from bad. You will grow from this and move forward. You will live your life with grace and passion. And I will cheering you on from the sidelines.
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