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#1
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Cat Addiction: Chapter 199
One of the many definitions of addiction is "doing things repeatedly
that are known to cause you pain". Like adopting new cats... So we adopted Henry the pitiful stray, expecting him to be integrated into our menagerie. This didn't work, so we've been looking for a new home for him. It looks like we may have actually found a spot for him, if the potential adopters are interested. But the idea of losing him turns out to be really painful. Tonight I spent about an hour and a half on the couch with Henry. I'd intended to take a nap, but he saw his opportunity to cuddle. With his enemies safely quaranteened upstairs, he snuggled me close. He tucked his head under my neck, and as he'd been trained, did not knead my arms with his sharp claws, but chose the pillow I was laying on instead. We had serious quality time together - Henry being content to snuggle and drool with one of the folks he sees whizzing through the house every day. The guy who fed him, cleaned his ears, and gave him a soft place to sleep. And I cried, thinking about losing him. To be sure, this is entirely different from having to put a cat to sleep, or have them struck down by a car or dog. But the sense of loss is very similar. Howard, the best cat I've ever loved, merged into the family with only a few scuffles (Tiger went to the vet with a scratched cornea, which he healed from, and there-after formed a truce with Howard). But Howard developed an inscrutable cat-disease after a few years, similar to Feline Immuno-Deficiency-Syndrome, but not exactly that, which forced us to surrender him to oblivion. Poor old Howard. Henry is so close in temperament to Howard. Calm, grateful, snuggling, and world-wise from his time on the street (he got his name the same way, when I asked both cats who they were, they told me). Once, while sitting in a Vet's office, I heard one guy say to another "when you rescue an animal from the street, they never forget it". That was true for Howard and for Henry. Part of the problem with cat-grief, I think, is that these wonderful little creatures are so human-like, that it's trivial to overlay your own expectations and feelings on them.. to anthropomorphize them. They have binocular vision, they learn how to be social with creatures so unlike themselves, they are independant and thoughtful. Thank god for Louis the Bengal, who is indeed a domesticated cat but continues to show the quirky behavior of a wild animal who unexpectedly finds himself in the company of another species. He's a great anchor (did you know that Bengals actually smell different than domestic mutts? At least Louis has a real musky-ferret smell, something we didn't expect at all). He is the touchstone to remind us that we are living with another species. I take some solace that the new home could potentially be so much better for Henry than our own home, which sports a vengeful, defensive and threatening little Bengal with a frightened senior-citizen mutt. Henry'd be the center of attention. He'd have very constant companionship. He'd be well cared-for. But by god, I'd miss him. BLink |
#2
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"Brian Link" wrote in message ... One of the many definitions of addiction is "doing things repeatedly that are known to cause you pain". Like adopting new cats... So we adopted Henry the pitiful stray, expecting him to be integrated into our menagerie. This didn't work, so we've been looking for a new home for him. It looks like we may have actually found a spot for him, if the potential adopters are interested. But the idea of losing him turns out to be really painful. Tonight I spent about an hour and a half on the couch with Henry. I'd intended to take a nap, but he saw his opportunity to cuddle. With his enemies safely quaranteened upstairs, he snuggled me close. He tucked his head under my neck, and as he'd been trained, did not knead my arms with his sharp claws, but chose the pillow I was laying on instead. We had serious quality time together - Henry being content to snuggle and drool with one of the folks he sees whizzing through the house every day. The guy who fed him, cleaned his ears, and gave him a soft place to sleep. And I cried, thinking about losing him. To be sure, this is entirely different from having to put a cat to sleep, or have them struck down by a car or dog. But the sense of loss is very similar. Howard, the best cat I've ever loved, merged into the family with only a few scuffles (Tiger went to the vet with a scratched cornea, which he healed from, and there-after formed a truce with Howard). But Howard developed an inscrutable cat-disease after a few years, similar to Feline Immuno-Deficiency-Syndrome, but not exactly that, which forced us to surrender him to oblivion. Poor old Howard. Henry is so close in temperament to Howard. Calm, grateful, snuggling, and world-wise from his time on the street (he got his name the same way, when I asked both cats who they were, they told me). Once, while sitting in a Vet's office, I heard one guy say to another "when you rescue an animal from the street, they never forget it". That was true for Howard and for Henry. Part of the problem with cat-grief, I think, is that these wonderful little creatures are so human-like, that it's trivial to overlay your own expectations and feelings on them.. to anthropomorphize them. They have binocular vision, they learn how to be social with creatures so unlike themselves, they are independant and thoughtful. Thank god for Louis the Bengal, who is indeed a domesticated cat but continues to show the quirky behavior of a wild animal who unexpectedly finds himself in the company of another species. He's a great anchor (did you know that Bengals actually smell different than domestic mutts? At least Louis has a real musky-ferret smell, something we didn't expect at all). He is the touchstone to remind us that we are living with another species. I take some solace that the new home could potentially be so much better for Henry than our own home, which sports a vengeful, defensive and threatening little Bengal with a frightened senior-citizen mutt. Henry'd be the center of attention. He'd have very constant companionship. He'd be well cared-for. But by god, I'd miss him. BLink Nooo! KEEP Henry. You were meant to be together. |
#3
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Brian Link wrote: One of the many definitions of addiction is "doing things repeatedly that are known to cause you pain". Like adopting new cats... snip Think of it as opening the door for another foster, foundling, or street urchin to wander into your life. Don't ever turn down a truly good third-party home for a cat who finds you. You are the conduit to a better life - and can be for many, many cats. -L. |
#4
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On 2 Mar 2005 23:14:12 -0800, "-L." wrote:
snip Thank you ... =) BLink |
#5
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On Thu, 3 Mar 2005 01:48:20 -0500, "Mary"
wrote: "Brian Link" wrote in message .. . One of the many definitions of addiction is "doing things repeatedly that are known to cause you pain". Like adopting new cats... So we adopted Henry the pitiful stray, expecting him to be integrated into our menagerie. This didn't work, so we've been looking for a new home for him. It looks like we may have actually found a spot for him, if the potential adopters are interested. But the idea of losing him turns out to be really painful. Tonight I spent about an hour and a half on the couch with Henry. I'd intended to take a nap, but he saw his opportunity to cuddle. With his enemies safely quaranteened upstairs, he snuggled me close. He tucked his head under my neck, and as he'd been trained, did not knead my arms with his sharp claws, but chose the pillow I was laying on instead. We had serious quality time together - Henry being content to snuggle and drool with one of the folks he sees whizzing through the house every day. The guy who fed him, cleaned his ears, and gave him a soft place to sleep. And I cried, thinking about losing him. To be sure, this is entirely different from having to put a cat to sleep, or have them struck down by a car or dog. But the sense of loss is very similar. Howard, the best cat I've ever loved, merged into the family with only a few scuffles (Tiger went to the vet with a scratched cornea, which he healed from, and there-after formed a truce with Howard). But Howard developed an inscrutable cat-disease after a few years, similar to Feline Immuno-Deficiency-Syndrome, but not exactly that, which forced us to surrender him to oblivion. Poor old Howard. Henry is so close in temperament to Howard. Calm, grateful, snuggling, and world-wise from his time on the street (he got his name the same way, when I asked both cats who they were, they told me). Once, while sitting in a Vet's office, I heard one guy say to another "when you rescue an animal from the street, they never forget it". That was true for Howard and for Henry. Part of the problem with cat-grief, I think, is that these wonderful little creatures are so human-like, that it's trivial to overlay your own expectations and feelings on them.. to anthropomorphize them. They have binocular vision, they learn how to be social with creatures so unlike themselves, they are independant and thoughtful. Thank god for Louis the Bengal, who is indeed a domesticated cat but continues to show the quirky behavior of a wild animal who unexpectedly finds himself in the company of another species. He's a great anchor (did you know that Bengals actually smell different than domestic mutts? At least Louis has a real musky-ferret smell, something we didn't expect at all). He is the touchstone to remind us that we are living with another species. I take some solace that the new home could potentially be so much better for Henry than our own home, which sports a vengeful, defensive and threatening little Bengal with a frightened senior-citizen mutt. Henry'd be the center of attention. He'd have very constant companionship. He'd be well cared-for. But by god, I'd miss him. BLink Nooo! KEEP Henry. You were meant to be together. Thanks for the good wishes, but it's been six months, and Louis is relentless in his anger toward this new usurper.. BLink |
#6
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On 2 Mar 2005 23:14:12 -0800, "-L." wrote:
Brian Link wrote: One of the many definitions of addiction is "doing things repeatedly that are known to cause you pain". Like adopting new cats... snip Think of it as opening the door for another foster, foundling, or street urchin to wander into your life. Don't ever turn down a truly good third-party home for a cat who finds you. You are the conduit to a better life - and can be for many, many cats. -L. Thanks. It's an overwhelming number of strays out there. Poor Henry endured one mild Minnesota winter .. there are so many others out there who will not see the next winter.. BLinkj |
#7
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On 2005-03-03, Brian Link penned:
Thanks for the good wishes, but it's been six months, and Louis is relentless in his anger toward this new usurper.. Sometimes the best thing for the cats is to find one of them a new home. It hurts like hell, though. Keeping him because you love him, even though his home life would be miserable, would be selfish. You're doing the right thing. -- monique, who spoils Oscar unmercifully pictures: http://www.bounceswoosh.org/rpca |
#8
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"Brian Link" wrote in message ... On Thu, 3 Mar 2005 01:48:20 -0500, "Mary" wrote: "Brian Link" wrote in message .. . One of the many definitions of addiction is "doing things repeatedly that are known to cause you pain". Like adopting new cats... So we adopted Henry the pitiful stray, expecting him to be integrated into our menagerie. This didn't work, so we've been looking for a new home for him. It looks like we may have actually found a spot for him, if the potential adopters are interested. But the idea of losing him turns out to be really painful. Tonight I spent about an hour and a half on the couch with Henry. I'd intended to take a nap, but he saw his opportunity to cuddle. With his enemies safely quaranteened upstairs, he snuggled me close. He tucked his head under my neck, and as he'd been trained, did not knead my arms with his sharp claws, but chose the pillow I was laying on instead. We had serious quality time together - Henry being content to snuggle and drool with one of the folks he sees whizzing through the house every day. The guy who fed him, cleaned his ears, and gave him a soft place to sleep. And I cried, thinking about losing him. To be sure, this is entirely different from having to put a cat to sleep, or have them struck down by a car or dog. But the sense of loss is very similar. Howard, the best cat I've ever loved, merged into the family with only a few scuffles (Tiger went to the vet with a scratched cornea, which he healed from, and there-after formed a truce with Howard). But Howard developed an inscrutable cat-disease after a few years, similar to Feline Immuno-Deficiency-Syndrome, but not exactly that, which forced us to surrender him to oblivion. Poor old Howard. Henry is so close in temperament to Howard. Calm, grateful, snuggling, and world-wise from his time on the street (he got his name the same way, when I asked both cats who they were, they told me). Once, while sitting in a Vet's office, I heard one guy say to another "when you rescue an animal from the street, they never forget it". That was true for Howard and for Henry. Part of the problem with cat-grief, I think, is that these wonderful little creatures are so human-like, that it's trivial to overlay your own expectations and feelings on them.. to anthropomorphize them. They have binocular vision, they learn how to be social with creatures so unlike themselves, they are independant and thoughtful. Thank god for Louis the Bengal, who is indeed a domesticated cat but continues to show the quirky behavior of a wild animal who unexpectedly finds himself in the company of another species. He's a great anchor (did you know that Bengals actually smell different than domestic mutts? At least Louis has a real musky-ferret smell, something we didn't expect at all). He is the touchstone to remind us that we are living with another species. I take some solace that the new home could potentially be so much better for Henry than our own home, which sports a vengeful, defensive and threatening little Bengal with a frightened senior-citizen mutt. Henry'd be the center of attention. He'd have very constant companionship. He'd be well cared-for. But by god, I'd miss him. BLink Nooo! KEEP Henry. You were meant to be together. Thanks for the good wishes, but it's been six months, and Louis is relentless in his anger toward this new usurper.. Well, you are just more mature than I am. And it is hard to see the pain in your post and accept that it must be. |
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