About five years ago (whoa) I was six months in to dating a man who was wrapping me up in his love. Being around him put me at peace yet electrified every skin cell. From the first moment I saw him, all I could think of was picking up any caution I had and tossing it like dandelion fluff into the wind. So when he asked me to move away with him, I agreed.
One issue: he was allergic to cats. And…I had two cats.
When you adopt a pet, you basically are asked to take an oath that no one will actually hold you to: that you will care for your pet no matter what. That you will figure it out. The person performing the adoption leads you through possible life scenarios and asks how you will handle them. What if you have to move? Do you solemnly swear you will only live in a place this cat can live? How will you afford cat food? Medical bills? On and on. Then you place your right hand on a dictionary and swear to tell the truth, the whole truth…wait, that’s something else. It’s a commitment you make mostly with and for yourself and your pet.
I broke that commitment. I never imagined a time and place where I fell in love with someone who couldn’t be around a cat. But I had to make a choice, and that was my choice to make.
A friend graciously, amazingly, wonderfully took in the cat. That friend took the tacit oath I had a few years before. And through thick and thin, multiple moves, dating a woman with a dog and eventually marrying his sweetheart, he kept that commitment. My friend believed the cat deserved a good home.
Except now, like myself five years ago, he has to make a choice: he and his wife are expecting their first child. And the cat, sweet as he often can be, is not infant friendly. Or even toddler. Or grade schooler.
We still believe this cat deserves a good home. He’s a good cat. He’s a cuddler, a player, a little feisty, and gets along with other cats and dogs. He could even be a strictly outdoor cat if you have a yard he can romp in.
I’m not with that boyfriend anymore, but I live in a studio that won’t allow for a fuzzball friend.
So, will you, or someone you know, take this cat? He needs a home by September 15.
Let me know.
As a footnote, or an aside – maybe a PS – I’d like to say this:
I wish adopting a pet hadn’t taught me something I needed to learn: that the commitments we make are bigger than we can imagine, that the future is never certain in a variety of ways, and we never know what will come to pass and what choices we have to make. But we make the best choices we can in the moment, and hope for the best going forward.
And my dear Death Cab for Kitty, even though you don’t understand words and cannot read a blog, can I just say this isn’t about you, and you don’t deserve to go through this again.
And I’m sorry I can’t take you in.
Eff, this is hard.