The equation of hurt and joy

In my ten years of doing this work, I’ve learned there is  definitely an equation that tells you how upset you’ll be to adopt out a cat, based on length of time you’ve had said kitty and how difficult they were to tame. The “problem children” always take the longest and are always the hardest to part with, because you’ve seen their amazing transformations and those create bonds as deep as the ocean. I find it very hard to let these cats go.

And yet, these are bonds that were always intended to break. They have to, so kitties can move on to their forever homes. You as a rescuer are merely a way-station, a hospital ward or in some cases, a finishing school. You do your best to make a cat presentable, and then grieve when they go on their ways.

Such was the case with Pippin.  If you read the last installment, you know that I was worried about finding a great home for this stubbornly feisty and stand-offish kitten who had feral roots that went WAY back. He had come light years from the angry, swatting boy that graced my walk-in closet for a full six weeks, and I adored him.

One morning I woke up and found him curled up in the curve of my arm. Dissolving with love and on the verge of tears, I started petting him, and whispered, “don’t make me fall in love with you. Your future is not here in this house…” whereupon he grabbed my fingers and chewed on them. After what we’d been through, it all felt like a miracle.

But I knew that the real miracle would be needed soon. When he was introduced to a new home, he would probably go through the same routine – or at least hide himself away… maybe for weeks. It was going to take a very special and patient family.

I lit candles days in advance of posting Pippin (now renamed Sparky because he was such a firecracker) on our local online community bulletin board, struggling with what to write. I worried that if I were completely honest about Sparky, people would be put off. “Please adopt this adorable little menace, who climbs drapes, knocks over flowers, and oh yeah, will not want you to touch him for a long time.”

So I chose my words carefully, noting that Sparky was a hilariously outgoing little personality, but because of his very rough kittenhood, was also very shy around new situations. And that he would need a special home where the adopters would understand that he just needed TIME and would not immediately be purring on their laps.

(We should not need to say this, right? And yet there are far too many stories out there of cats being returned to agencies because they were initially shy. Classic narcissism of the human species: everything and every animal on the planet is there for our gratification.)

So I posted him on a Saturday, lit a candle and held my breath. And by Saturday evening had a fervently sincere offer from a married pair of geologists to give him a home. They didn’t ask for a preliminary visit (probably realizing he would hide anyway), and said their other cat, Ruby, had been a feral kitten plucked from the side of the road after being injured by a car and losing 2/3 of her tail. She did not let them near her for a month, and they knew that Sparky would be, like Ruby, a “project cat.” And they would be honored to offer him a home.

I gasped, fighting dueling urges to drive him to their house before they changed their mind… and withdrawing my request because I didn’t want to let him go. But I kept cool, and four days later I was packing him up, feeling sad and anxious. I dropped him at his new home and waited for bits of news. His new parents are awesome – keeping me up to date with every little development, even when the only news was that he was still under the bed.

But he came along, slowly but surely – starting with appearing to play with toys, taking food from fingers (which he brattily then swatted) and finally, allowing physical closeness. And on the two week anniversary of his adoption, it happened. IMG_1121 Purring and petting, oh my!

I know now that I can let go – that Sparky is going to be fine. And he will bring his new parents a lot of happiness. So I’ll dry my tears and get ready for the next project cat, and the next equation of hurt and joy. Thanks, St. Francis, for having my back.