Feline loss

I miss my cats. After two trips to the ER and one very close call last night as we dropped them off at their new home, I am convinced we did the right thing for them and for Jack but I am still heartbroken. Jackson has allergy-induced asthma reactions to cat dander. It has to be genetic, both Tim and I were mildly allergic to the cats also but we can take Zyrtec, Jackson can't. Tim's dad is also severely allergic to both cats and dogs.

Romeo and Juliet have a new brother too, and a 2 year old boy who will love them and pet them. Their new mom and dad are none other than Coupon Chris and her dear Hubby Justin. I think if I had to give them to anybody I didn't know, I'd be up all night worrying about them. But since I know they have a loving, safe home with really great people, it takes a little bit of the sting out of my loss.

I love those kitties. Those cats have been by my side through so much. Romeo was with me when my boyfriend of two years cheated on me, got the other girl pregnant and then decided he had to "do the right thing" and marry the other girl. Um, "the right thing" would have been to not stick your peen in her, dumbass. Both Romeo and Juliet snuggled by my side and purred to me while I cried myself to sleep after leaving my first husband. I also left his lying, cheating, gambling and scheming so in the end it wasn't all bad. But at them moment when I was in the thick of it, it was awful. Mo and Julie were there for me when I couldn't take any more of my second husband's verbal abuse, and I had to lock myself in a bathroom to slump down into a corner and cry. They licked my tears away with their sandpapery tongues. I came home to them exuberant when I met Hubby. I came home to them exhausted and frustrated from work more times than I can count, and there is no better balm for the soul than a soothing chorus of purring cats on your lap with silky coats to stroke as you while away the evening after a bad day with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of chardonnay in the other. Together we weathered three marriages, two divorces, 9 moves, more bad dates than I can count, 4 jobs and lots of both really great and really bad days. They're my companions, my babies. They were so good to me.

I think that's why it breaks my heart so. They were always good to me. And even though I know that finding them a new home is the best thing for them, I can't help but feel guilty, as if I have betrayed their trust. They were always there for me and now I'm not there for them. I hope they understand that I did what I did in order to give them the best life they can possibly have. The only alternative would be to keep them quarantined in a separate room with little or no human contact so as to reduce the risk of spreading cat dander around the house. It would have been a horrible life for them, they're people cats. They're affectionate and cuddly and sweet and need to be petted, a lot. I can't give them what they need, what they deserve.

Rehoming them was the most impossible choice I have ever had to make. I don't believe that pets are disposable, and I feel horrible for choosing to find another home for my cats. But my baby has to come first. As much as I hate to admit it, the human baby pulls rank over the pet babies. I'm so down about this. There's a cat-shaped hole in my heart, and I don't think it will ever go away. It isn't the same coming home without a little furbaby meowing at your feet and circling your ankles. I will miss Mo & Julie dearly. They were the best cats ever.