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#1
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goodbye, Eros
I never thought I'd ever give away a pet. It's completely against everything
I believe. And yet, this morning, I brought the sweetest, most lovely cat I've ever met to a shelter. I feel like the worst person in the world, even though I know that the shelter is extremely caring, that they will keep him until he finds a home, and that a sweet cat like him will easily pick himself an owner. I'm posting as a sort of catharsis. I hope you don't mind. The story started several months ago. I noticed that my 4yo girl cat, Oscar, seemed pretty bored. Eric and I both work (more than?) full time and have busy schedules; even though Oscar is somewhat of a loner, it seemed like she could use some company while we are out. I started mulling over the thought of bringing a second furball into the house. Some time after the thought first occured to me, I received a pertinent email. I belong to a freecycle mailing list, where people enable the "reuse" part of "reduce, reuse, recycle." A cat needed a home. I sat on the email for a while, then contacted the owner. She'd gotten no other responses. She was moving to an apartment that only allowed one cat, and she had two. The cat in question was a sweetheart named Eros. I told her that I had another cat, and expressed concerns that they might fight; she was hesitant, but eventually agreed that, should they be fighting constantly, she would rather take Eros back than leave him in that situation. My husband, Eric, observed all of this sceptically and accompanied me to meet Eros. Eros the snuggler; Eros the hugger; Eros the instantly friendly. I agreed to take him on the spot. In retrospect, I should have heeded advice to keep Eros in a single room and let the cats meet through the door, though to be honest I don't think it would have made a difference. I hated the idea of taking Eros from his family and dumping him into a closed room for a week, and a massive, three-story house seemed plenty big for the cats to find their own niches. From the first, Oscar followed Eros around like she thought he might steal the silverware. Oscar, hissing and growling, followed a bewildered Eros everywhere he went, never attacking but always there. He hid himself in a dark corner of the basement. I worried for him, so eventually I pulled him out to make sure he knew where the food was. This seemed to signal his acceptance into the house; the same day, he explored the entire house and made himself at home. Oscar was not a happy camper. Eros, being a young, playful cat, drove Oscar mad. Unaccustomed to keeping an eye out for sneak attacks, she would sun herself on the office window ledge while Eros crept up from beneath and batted at her tail. Batted. Once. Completely harmless. But Oscar flew three feet in the air and ran to the safety of the underside of our bed. Quite a sight. We thought it was funny, till we realized she wouldn't come out. She lived under the bed. We figured she must be eating, drinking, and using the litterbox, but I brought her food and water into the master bathroom just in case. A day later, we found proof that she hadn't been eating, or using the litterbox, or doing anything else that required leaving the safety of the bedroom. In desperation, she peed on the bath mat, then folded a corner over to cover it up. We thanked her for peeing on a washable object; we brought a litterbox into the bathtub. Eros didn't catch on to the fact that his feline housemate bore him no love. He would hang out near the bed, apparently waiting for her to come out and play. He would lounge with his belly in the air while Oscar hissed and growled. I could never figure out if he was genuinely unaware of the ill will, or if he was playing some cat dominance game. While Oscar hid under the bed, Eros made himself at home. He snuggled with us at night. He watched movies with us. He played with every toy and object he found. He greeted me when I came home. He made himself readily available for hugs and snuggles and playtime. He was the antithesis of Oscar, who gives her favors only reluctantly. Oscar won't let me touch her feet; Eros seems to enjoy it. Oscar would never relax enough to let me rub her belly; Eros relishes it. It was hard to be sympathetic for my older, grumpier cat, but I did worry. And Eric, who was also falling for Eros hard, observed that he'd been coughing and had itchy eyes since Eros arrived; he'd also gotten sick enough to stay home several times, something he rarely does. At some point, I found a cut in Oscar's ear. She'd developed an occasional habit of charging Eros if he came too close to the bed. Eros never attacked her, that I could tell; I think she got the cut when he defended himself. She'll bear that souvenir for the rest of her life. Still, I hoped they would work it out. Then Eric went to the hospital for a few days. It's a long story, but in the end, it added up to too much. Eric constantly ill; Oscar miserable. It was time to give Eros back to his owner. We'd tried, but it just wasn't working out. In the meantime, the bedroom door was closed most of the time to allow Oscar to relax a bit, and Eros was locked in the guest bedroom at night so that he wouldn't be scratching at our door all night. It took me a while to get in touch with the original owner; she said she would look into asking the stables where her daughter rode if they wanted another barn cat. This seemed like a poor place to put a human-loving cat, and I had my doubts about the outdoor life (shorter but sweeter, perhaps), but I agreed not to seek out adopters on my own while she followed up on this. I didn't hear from her for several days. I tried to contact her, but no answer. Her cell phone wouldn't let me leave a message. I finally emailed her, letting her know that I would be putting Eros in a kennel while I sought an owner for him, but that they couldn't keep him through Thanksgiving, so I'd bring him to the shelter if I couldn't find anyone. Then I did all of those things. The kennel workers adore Eros; they allowed him freedoms that other cats didn't get. Everyone said, "If only I didn't already have three cats ....", "If only my dogs wouldn't kill him ..." Several days later, I got a response to the effect that it was "great" that I'd "found a way to work it out" since she "couldn't take him back." Right. That's not exactly how I felt about the matter, nor how she'd described the situation previously, but not much I could do about it. It did irritate me that I'd lost several days of seeking potential adopters; I wish she'd just told me from the start to handle it myself. I would have gained valuable days. I found out from our vet that her sister, a hockey buddy of mine, was looking for a kitten. I referred her to Eros, then waited to hear the verdict. Unfortunately, her kids weren't crazy about him, so no go. This morning, I went to the kennel and tearfully put Eros in a carrier. My tears blurred my vision, so one of the assistants had to help me get his little head and tail in without pinching anything. Of course, he meowed as soon as he set foot in the carrier, and he didn't stop as I approached the humane society doors. Of course, I'd forgotten that they don't open for adoption till 11am; they must have taken pity on my tear-streaked face, because they let me in and the shelter director took down Eros' info. They put him in a cage; he has to stay there for a day to "settle in" before they evaluate him. I was able to give him his favorite toy, though. I gave them the $50 fee, as well as paying for a gift certificate to help his next owners set up. I asked, somewhat jokingly, if they had counselling services for people who feel like they're horrible people because they gave up their pets, and to my surprise she handed me a business card; apparently, they have "pet loss" counselling, which includes those who have had to give up their pets. Some part of me expects all animal lovers to look down on me in disgust for parting with Eros; that's certainly how I feel about myself. It's amazing to me to see no judgement in the eyes of the kennel people or the humane society people. I got to work and shortly received an email from a co-worker whose girlfriend is looking for a cat. Sigh. I had to tell them that Eros was at the shelter, and gave them the phone number. It sounds like they've found a kitten elsewhere, anyway. It feels awful to know that I'll never bury my face in his fur again; never get a hug from him; never watch him slide out as he chases a toy across the hardwood of our front hall. I'll be able to visit and play with him while he's at the shelter, but I'll never really know that his new owners will treat him well. It does help a bit to see my husband healthy and to see Oscar making herself comfortable around the house again, now that we've convinced her that Eros isn't around. But I don't think I'll stop crying intermittently, or blaming myself, for quite a while. Thanks for listening (reading). -- monique |
#2
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I'm so sorry about what you're going through. We had a similar situation
when we moved and brought Xoxo to live with us. For months he lived under a bed, only coming out to eat and use the litterbox. Luna and Maya chased him relentlessly. We were close to finding another home for Xoxo, but when we introduced the boys to the household, this completely changed the dynamics of the house. Now Xoxo is a very happy cat in our tribe of 7. Purrs that Eros finds a good home soon and purrs to you for caring so much about him. -- Victor Martinez Owned and operated by the Fantastic Seven (TM) Send your spam he Email me he |
#3
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I'm so sorry about what you're going through. We had a similar situation
when we moved and brought Xoxo to live with us. For months he lived under a bed, only coming out to eat and use the litterbox. Luna and Maya chased him relentlessly. We were close to finding another home for Xoxo, but when we introduced the boys to the household, this completely changed the dynamics of the house. Now Xoxo is a very happy cat in our tribe of 7. Purrs that Eros finds a good home soon and purrs to you for caring so much about him. -- Victor Martinez Owned and operated by the Fantastic Seven (TM) Send your spam he Email me he |
#4
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On 2004-11-22, Victor Martinez penned:
I'm so sorry about what you're going through. We had a similar situation when we moved and brought Xoxo to live with us. For months he lived under a bed, only coming out to eat and use the litterbox. Luna and Maya chased him relentlessly. We were close to finding another home for Xoxo, but when we introduced the boys to the household, this completely changed the dynamics of the house. Now Xoxo is a very happy cat in our tribe of 7. Purrs that Eros finds a good home soon and purrs to you for caring so much about him. Thank you very much. I have a strong feeling that Eros will get over me much sooner than I will get over him! The little guy is shamelessly promiscuous with his hugs and purrs. -- monique |
#5
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On 2004-11-22, Victor Martinez penned:
I'm so sorry about what you're going through. We had a similar situation when we moved and brought Xoxo to live with us. For months he lived under a bed, only coming out to eat and use the litterbox. Luna and Maya chased him relentlessly. We were close to finding another home for Xoxo, but when we introduced the boys to the household, this completely changed the dynamics of the house. Now Xoxo is a very happy cat in our tribe of 7. Purrs that Eros finds a good home soon and purrs to you for caring so much about him. Thank you very much. I have a strong feeling that Eros will get over me much sooner than I will get over him! The little guy is shamelessly promiscuous with his hugs and purrs. -- monique |
#6
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((((((((Monique)))))))) (That's a cyber-hug)
I'm so sorry you had to give him away when you obviously fell in love with him. You did the best you could, and what seemed to be right for everyone. I'm sure he'll find another loving home. I'm also sure you'll grieve for a long time, but I hope you can find comfort in the fact that you did your best. Joy "Monique Y. Mudama" wrote in message ... I never thought I'd ever give away a pet. It's completely against everything I believe. And yet, this morning, I brought the sweetest, most lovely cat I've ever met to a shelter. I feel like the worst person in the world, even though I know that the shelter is extremely caring, that they will keep him until he finds a home, and that a sweet cat like him will easily pick himself an owner. I'm posting as a sort of catharsis. I hope you don't mind. The story started several months ago. I noticed that my 4yo girl cat, Oscar, seemed pretty bored. Eric and I both work (more than?) full time and have busy schedules; even though Oscar is somewhat of a loner, it seemed like she could use some company while we are out. I started mulling over the thought of bringing a second furball into the house. Some time after the thought first occured to me, I received a pertinent email. I belong to a freecycle mailing list, where people enable the "reuse" part of "reduce, reuse, recycle." A cat needed a home. I sat on the email for a while, then contacted the owner. She'd gotten no other responses. She was moving to an apartment that only allowed one cat, and she had two. The cat in question was a sweetheart named Eros. I told her that I had another cat, and expressed concerns that they might fight; she was hesitant, but eventually agreed that, should they be fighting constantly, she would rather take Eros back than leave him in that situation. My husband, Eric, observed all of this sceptically and accompanied me to meet Eros. Eros the snuggler; Eros the hugger; Eros the instantly friendly. I agreed to take him on the spot. In retrospect, I should have heeded advice to keep Eros in a single room and let the cats meet through the door, though to be honest I don't think it would have made a difference. I hated the idea of taking Eros from his family and dumping him into a closed room for a week, and a massive, three-story house seemed plenty big for the cats to find their own niches. From the first, Oscar followed Eros around like she thought he might steal the silverware. Oscar, hissing and growling, followed a bewildered Eros everywhere he went, never attacking but always there. He hid himself in a dark corner of the basement. I worried for him, so eventually I pulled him out to make sure he knew where the food was. This seemed to signal his acceptance into the house; the same day, he explored the entire house and made himself at home. Oscar was not a happy camper. Eros, being a young, playful cat, drove Oscar mad. Unaccustomed to keeping an eye out for sneak attacks, she would sun herself on the office window ledge while Eros crept up from beneath and batted at her tail. Batted. Once. Completely harmless. But Oscar flew three feet in the air and ran to the safety of the underside of our bed. Quite a sight. We thought it was funny, till we realized she wouldn't come out. She lived under the bed. We figured she must be eating, drinking, and using the litterbox, but I brought her food and water into the master bathroom just in case. A day later, we found proof that she hadn't been eating, or using the litterbox, or doing anything else that required leaving the safety of the bedroom. In desperation, she peed on the bath mat, then folded a corner over to cover it up. We thanked her for peeing on a washable object; we brought a litterbox into the bathtub. Eros didn't catch on to the fact that his feline housemate bore him no love. He would hang out near the bed, apparently waiting for her to come out and play. He would lounge with his belly in the air while Oscar hissed and growled. I could never figure out if he was genuinely unaware of the ill will, or if he was playing some cat dominance game. While Oscar hid under the bed, Eros made himself at home. He snuggled with us at night. He watched movies with us. He played with every toy and object he found. He greeted me when I came home. He made himself readily available for hugs and snuggles and playtime. He was the antithesis of Oscar, who gives her favors only reluctantly. Oscar won't let me touch her feet; Eros seems to enjoy it. Oscar would never relax enough to let me rub her belly; Eros relishes it. It was hard to be sympathetic for my older, grumpier cat, but I did worry. And Eric, who was also falling for Eros hard, observed that he'd been coughing and had itchy eyes since Eros arrived; he'd also gotten sick enough to stay home several times, something he rarely does. At some point, I found a cut in Oscar's ear. She'd developed an occasional habit of charging Eros if he came too close to the bed. Eros never attacked her, that I could tell; I think she got the cut when he defended himself. She'll bear that souvenir for the rest of her life. Still, I hoped they would work it out. Then Eric went to the hospital for a few days. It's a long story, but in the end, it added up to too much. Eric constantly ill; Oscar miserable. It was time to give Eros back to his owner. We'd tried, but it just wasn't working out. In the meantime, the bedroom door was closed most of the time to allow Oscar to relax a bit, and Eros was locked in the guest bedroom at night so that he wouldn't be scratching at our door all night. It took me a while to get in touch with the original owner; she said she would look into asking the stables where her daughter rode if they wanted another barn cat. This seemed like a poor place to put a human-loving cat, and I had my doubts about the outdoor life (shorter but sweeter, perhaps), but I agreed not to seek out adopters on my own while she followed up on this. I didn't hear from her for several days. I tried to contact her, but no answer. Her cell phone wouldn't let me leave a message. I finally emailed her, letting her know that I would be putting Eros in a kennel while I sought an owner for him, but that they couldn't keep him through Thanksgiving, so I'd bring him to the shelter if I couldn't find anyone. Then I did all of those things. The kennel workers adore Eros; they allowed him freedoms that other cats didn't get. Everyone said, "If only I didn't already have three cats ...", "If only my dogs wouldn't kill him ..." Several days later, I got a response to the effect that it was "great" that I'd "found a way to work it out" since she "couldn't take him back." Right. That's not exactly how I felt about the matter, nor how she'd described the situation previously, but not much I could do about it. It did irritate me that I'd lost several days of seeking potential adopters; I wish she'd just told me from the start to handle it myself. I would have gained valuable days. I found out from our vet that her sister, a hockey buddy of mine, was looking for a kitten. I referred her to Eros, then waited to hear the verdict. Unfortunately, her kids weren't crazy about him, so no go. This morning, I went to the kennel and tearfully put Eros in a carrier. My tears blurred my vision, so one of the assistants had to help me get his little head and tail in without pinching anything. Of course, he meowed as soon as he set foot in the carrier, and he didn't stop as I approached the humane society doors. Of course, I'd forgotten that they don't open for adoption till 11am; they must have taken pity on my tear-streaked face, because they let me in and the shelter director took down Eros' info. They put him in a cage; he has to stay there for a day to "settle in" before they evaluate him. I was able to give him his favorite toy, though. I gave them the $50 fee, as well as paying for a gift certificate to help his next owners set up. I asked, somewhat jokingly, if they had counselling services for people who feel like they're horrible people because they gave up their pets, and to my surprise she handed me a business card; apparently, they have "pet loss" counselling, which includes those who have had to give up their pets. Some part of me expects all animal lovers to look down on me in disgust for parting with Eros; that's certainly how I feel about myself. It's amazing to me to see no judgement in the eyes of the kennel people or the humane society people. I got to work and shortly received an email from a co-worker whose girlfriend is looking for a cat. Sigh. I had to tell them that Eros was at the shelter, and gave them the phone number. It sounds like they've found a kitten elsewhere, anyway. It feels awful to know that I'll never bury my face in his fur again; never get a hug from him; never watch him slide out as he chases a toy across the hardwood of our front hall. I'll be able to visit and play with him while he's at the shelter, but I'll never really know that his new owners will treat him well. It does help a bit to see my husband healthy and to see Oscar making herself comfortable around the house again, now that we've convinced her that Eros isn't around. But I don't think I'll stop crying intermittently, or blaming myself, for quite a while. Thanks for listening (reading). -- monique |
#7
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((((((((Monique)))))))) (That's a cyber-hug)
I'm so sorry you had to give him away when you obviously fell in love with him. You did the best you could, and what seemed to be right for everyone. I'm sure he'll find another loving home. I'm also sure you'll grieve for a long time, but I hope you can find comfort in the fact that you did your best. Joy "Monique Y. Mudama" wrote in message ... I never thought I'd ever give away a pet. It's completely against everything I believe. And yet, this morning, I brought the sweetest, most lovely cat I've ever met to a shelter. I feel like the worst person in the world, even though I know that the shelter is extremely caring, that they will keep him until he finds a home, and that a sweet cat like him will easily pick himself an owner. I'm posting as a sort of catharsis. I hope you don't mind. The story started several months ago. I noticed that my 4yo girl cat, Oscar, seemed pretty bored. Eric and I both work (more than?) full time and have busy schedules; even though Oscar is somewhat of a loner, it seemed like she could use some company while we are out. I started mulling over the thought of bringing a second furball into the house. Some time after the thought first occured to me, I received a pertinent email. I belong to a freecycle mailing list, where people enable the "reuse" part of "reduce, reuse, recycle." A cat needed a home. I sat on the email for a while, then contacted the owner. She'd gotten no other responses. She was moving to an apartment that only allowed one cat, and she had two. The cat in question was a sweetheart named Eros. I told her that I had another cat, and expressed concerns that they might fight; she was hesitant, but eventually agreed that, should they be fighting constantly, she would rather take Eros back than leave him in that situation. My husband, Eric, observed all of this sceptically and accompanied me to meet Eros. Eros the snuggler; Eros the hugger; Eros the instantly friendly. I agreed to take him on the spot. In retrospect, I should have heeded advice to keep Eros in a single room and let the cats meet through the door, though to be honest I don't think it would have made a difference. I hated the idea of taking Eros from his family and dumping him into a closed room for a week, and a massive, three-story house seemed plenty big for the cats to find their own niches. From the first, Oscar followed Eros around like she thought he might steal the silverware. Oscar, hissing and growling, followed a bewildered Eros everywhere he went, never attacking but always there. He hid himself in a dark corner of the basement. I worried for him, so eventually I pulled him out to make sure he knew where the food was. This seemed to signal his acceptance into the house; the same day, he explored the entire house and made himself at home. Oscar was not a happy camper. Eros, being a young, playful cat, drove Oscar mad. Unaccustomed to keeping an eye out for sneak attacks, she would sun herself on the office window ledge while Eros crept up from beneath and batted at her tail. Batted. Once. Completely harmless. But Oscar flew three feet in the air and ran to the safety of the underside of our bed. Quite a sight. We thought it was funny, till we realized she wouldn't come out. She lived under the bed. We figured she must be eating, drinking, and using the litterbox, but I brought her food and water into the master bathroom just in case. A day later, we found proof that she hadn't been eating, or using the litterbox, or doing anything else that required leaving the safety of the bedroom. In desperation, she peed on the bath mat, then folded a corner over to cover it up. We thanked her for peeing on a washable object; we brought a litterbox into the bathtub. Eros didn't catch on to the fact that his feline housemate bore him no love. He would hang out near the bed, apparently waiting for her to come out and play. He would lounge with his belly in the air while Oscar hissed and growled. I could never figure out if he was genuinely unaware of the ill will, or if he was playing some cat dominance game. While Oscar hid under the bed, Eros made himself at home. He snuggled with us at night. He watched movies with us. He played with every toy and object he found. He greeted me when I came home. He made himself readily available for hugs and snuggles and playtime. He was the antithesis of Oscar, who gives her favors only reluctantly. Oscar won't let me touch her feet; Eros seems to enjoy it. Oscar would never relax enough to let me rub her belly; Eros relishes it. It was hard to be sympathetic for my older, grumpier cat, but I did worry. And Eric, who was also falling for Eros hard, observed that he'd been coughing and had itchy eyes since Eros arrived; he'd also gotten sick enough to stay home several times, something he rarely does. At some point, I found a cut in Oscar's ear. She'd developed an occasional habit of charging Eros if he came too close to the bed. Eros never attacked her, that I could tell; I think she got the cut when he defended himself. She'll bear that souvenir for the rest of her life. Still, I hoped they would work it out. Then Eric went to the hospital for a few days. It's a long story, but in the end, it added up to too much. Eric constantly ill; Oscar miserable. It was time to give Eros back to his owner. We'd tried, but it just wasn't working out. In the meantime, the bedroom door was closed most of the time to allow Oscar to relax a bit, and Eros was locked in the guest bedroom at night so that he wouldn't be scratching at our door all night. It took me a while to get in touch with the original owner; she said she would look into asking the stables where her daughter rode if they wanted another barn cat. This seemed like a poor place to put a human-loving cat, and I had my doubts about the outdoor life (shorter but sweeter, perhaps), but I agreed not to seek out adopters on my own while she followed up on this. I didn't hear from her for several days. I tried to contact her, but no answer. Her cell phone wouldn't let me leave a message. I finally emailed her, letting her know that I would be putting Eros in a kennel while I sought an owner for him, but that they couldn't keep him through Thanksgiving, so I'd bring him to the shelter if I couldn't find anyone. Then I did all of those things. The kennel workers adore Eros; they allowed him freedoms that other cats didn't get. Everyone said, "If only I didn't already have three cats ...", "If only my dogs wouldn't kill him ..." Several days later, I got a response to the effect that it was "great" that I'd "found a way to work it out" since she "couldn't take him back." Right. That's not exactly how I felt about the matter, nor how she'd described the situation previously, but not much I could do about it. It did irritate me that I'd lost several days of seeking potential adopters; I wish she'd just told me from the start to handle it myself. I would have gained valuable days. I found out from our vet that her sister, a hockey buddy of mine, was looking for a kitten. I referred her to Eros, then waited to hear the verdict. Unfortunately, her kids weren't crazy about him, so no go. This morning, I went to the kennel and tearfully put Eros in a carrier. My tears blurred my vision, so one of the assistants had to help me get his little head and tail in without pinching anything. Of course, he meowed as soon as he set foot in the carrier, and he didn't stop as I approached the humane society doors. Of course, I'd forgotten that they don't open for adoption till 11am; they must have taken pity on my tear-streaked face, because they let me in and the shelter director took down Eros' info. They put him in a cage; he has to stay there for a day to "settle in" before they evaluate him. I was able to give him his favorite toy, though. I gave them the $50 fee, as well as paying for a gift certificate to help his next owners set up. I asked, somewhat jokingly, if they had counselling services for people who feel like they're horrible people because they gave up their pets, and to my surprise she handed me a business card; apparently, they have "pet loss" counselling, which includes those who have had to give up their pets. Some part of me expects all animal lovers to look down on me in disgust for parting with Eros; that's certainly how I feel about myself. It's amazing to me to see no judgement in the eyes of the kennel people or the humane society people. I got to work and shortly received an email from a co-worker whose girlfriend is looking for a cat. Sigh. I had to tell them that Eros was at the shelter, and gave them the phone number. It sounds like they've found a kitten elsewhere, anyway. It feels awful to know that I'll never bury my face in his fur again; never get a hug from him; never watch him slide out as he chases a toy across the hardwood of our front hall. I'll be able to visit and play with him while he's at the shelter, but I'll never really know that his new owners will treat him well. It does help a bit to see my husband healthy and to see Oscar making herself comfortable around the house again, now that we've convinced her that Eros isn't around. But I don't think I'll stop crying intermittently, or blaming myself, for quite a while. Thanks for listening (reading). -- monique |
#8
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On 2004-11-22, Yoj penned:
((((((((Monique)))))))) (That's a cyber-hug) I'm so sorry you had to give him away when you obviously fell in love with him. You did the best you could, and what seemed to be right for everyone. I'm sure he'll find another loving home. I'm also sure you'll grieve for a long time, but I hope you can find comfort in the fact that you did your best. Joy Thank you. I'm wondering if this is an object lesson in humility and understanding, or something. One reason I expected the shelter workers and everyone to look down on me is because I have never had any compassion for someone who would give up their pets. I simply couldn't imagine anyone giving up their pets if they were responsible pet owners and good people. So, now, I see myself as an irresponsible pet owner and bad person. At least I'm consistent! ... and maybe I've learned a little about that "judge not, lest ye be judged yerself" bit. Not that I'm a big fan of that book as a whole, but there are some good quotes. It does bum me out to realize that Oscar probably won't tolerate another cat in the house, and that I'd certainly be too scared to try. And it seems like the only way to know about the allergies is to have Eric live with the cat for a while. So ... I wonder whether there will ever be other cats in my future, aside from Oscar. That makes me sad. On the plus side, Eric's not allergic to dogs, and Oscar has actually done fairly well living with dogs in the past. But we really don't have time for one. If we did, we'd have one already! -- monique |
#9
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On 2004-11-22, Yoj penned:
((((((((Monique)))))))) (That's a cyber-hug) I'm so sorry you had to give him away when you obviously fell in love with him. You did the best you could, and what seemed to be right for everyone. I'm sure he'll find another loving home. I'm also sure you'll grieve for a long time, but I hope you can find comfort in the fact that you did your best. Joy Thank you. I'm wondering if this is an object lesson in humility and understanding, or something. One reason I expected the shelter workers and everyone to look down on me is because I have never had any compassion for someone who would give up their pets. I simply couldn't imagine anyone giving up their pets if they were responsible pet owners and good people. So, now, I see myself as an irresponsible pet owner and bad person. At least I'm consistent! ... and maybe I've learned a little about that "judge not, lest ye be judged yerself" bit. Not that I'm a big fan of that book as a whole, but there are some good quotes. It does bum me out to realize that Oscar probably won't tolerate another cat in the house, and that I'd certainly be too scared to try. And it seems like the only way to know about the allergies is to have Eric live with the cat for a while. So ... I wonder whether there will ever be other cats in my future, aside from Oscar. That makes me sad. On the plus side, Eric's not allergic to dogs, and Oscar has actually done fairly well living with dogs in the past. But we really don't have time for one. If we did, we'd have one already! -- monique |
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It feels awful to know that I'll never bury my face in his fur again; never
get a hug from him; never watch him slide out as he chases a toy across the hardwood of our front hall. I'll be able to visit and play with him while he's at the shelter, but I'll never really know that his new owners will treat him well. It does help a bit to see my husband healthy and to see Oscar making herself comfortable around the house again, now that we've convinced her that Eros isn't around. But I don't think I'll stop crying intermittently, or blaming myself, for quite a while. Thanks for listening (reading). I know how hard it is to give up an animal. I experienced that with a dog that my ex-wife and I rescued with the full intention of finding it a loving permanent home. Even knowing from day one that the dog would be going to live elsewhere didn't make it any easier. You really can't blame yourself. You were motivated by a love for animals and an honest intention to give Eros a loving home. There was no way you could have known that Oscar wouldn't take to Eros. The bottom line is that you tried, you did your best, and it was just one of those things that wasn't meant to be. From the way you describe Eros it won't take long to find his OneTrueHome. Dan |
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