Last month I had to rehome my two cats. A layoff last fall with me so close to finishing my bachelor’s degree and moving on to hopefully pursue grad school left me in precarious circumstances, juggling (when I can find them) part-time jobs and trying to figure out how I was going to keep going. I finally made the decision that the kitties would be better off in a more stable home and contacted the cat adoption lady I’d originally gotten my male, Riley, from five years ago. Long story short, she was able to take them and within two weeks find them a wonderful new, pet-loving home with a family where they are loved and cherished.
I am convinced in my heart and mind that this was the best thing to do for all of us. I am also racked with guilt and weighed down by grief. This little ball and one other toy is all I have left of Riley and Isabella, aside from a few pictures and memories. I miss them terribly.
I wish I had hugged them one last time before I let them into their cat carriers that morning when I took them to drop off with the adoption lady. The morning just got away from me and, in the end, I put the carriers on the floor before I realized I hadn’t held them one last time.
Grief is a funny thing. I still find myself bargaining with God, trying to figure out a way to turn back the clock and change things. I want them back…Not possible. Not even a good idea were it possible. But I do.
(© Karen Opp. All rights reserved.)