Meep

It is a sad day. I have just returned from re-homing Murray, the kitten my sister got last christmas. Due to unforseen circumstances, he became ours and adapted to life at our place. He used to chase the other cats around the house, hanging off their tails, in fact he rattled Oscar so much that the vet said he had developed anxiety issues! But he settled down and it was with much remorse that I found a new home for him, as we felt the new house was just not safe enough for him, being on a busy road.

The lady who wanted him turned out not to be what I had expected. I forced myself to drive away. And pulled over 100 metres down the street and burst into tears.
My overwrought sense of responsibility shrieked at me, Hey! You can't just leave this little guy with a lady that you didn't meet first.

My grief yelled at me Not another loss! Not so soon.

My maternal heart screeched Go back and get him! She might not love him like you do.

I then made a fatal mistake. While parked up on a strange street, I called my sister and sobbed out the story. She began to cry too and soon the two of us were wailing on the phone to each other and Mishal began to fuss in the backseat. Thus began the messy emotional process of trying to get him back, to re-re-home him.

But before I sent the message to the new owner that we had changed our minds (no money had changed hands we told ourselves, it was alright) I waited to run it all past Greg.
In between meetings he listened to my tale of woe. Bloody ridiculous he said. And listen up darling. The cat will be fine, she'll love on him as she is home all day, she was respectful and intelligent over email and pursued wanting Murray. Don't stand in judgement of her because she is different to you. Let him go, let the responsibility of re-homing him go. New wineskin time, don't you dare get him back. It would be wrong.

I sniffed. True. All true. Thank God for a steadying husband who does not function solely out of the quicksand of maternal emotion.

And so I head off now, dust mask on, downstairs to wash and pack the filthy stuff that has been covered in concrete grime from the landlord's repairs, with a lumpy feeling in my gut and reddened eyes. And no chocolate, what was I thinking when I did the grocery shopping - moving week and no Cadbury's Energy Scroggin? In two hours my children will be home and the tears will start all over again as they realise Murray is gone. Then off to dance/drama lessons and later to the Town Hall for Kenzie's school choir performance. No time for tears. Especially not when I have a six bedroomed house to pack up in three days.
Moving forward...

sarah  – (November 24, 2009 at 2:49 PM)  

(((hugs)))

I doubt there's any more I could say.

:-(

Simoney  – (November 24, 2009 at 8:55 PM)  

Oh poor you, you lovely softie! Sorry things worked out that you couldn't make it on Saturday, it would have been cool to have you there. NExt time!! xxx Big hugs xxx

paige  – (November 25, 2009 at 12:47 AM)  

dearest amy...i am so sorry.
praying for you during such a busy time
xo

Sammy  – (November 25, 2009 at 10:21 AM)  

Oh Amy! I totally get how you felt! Aren't we blessed to have such awesome grounded hubbies? All the best for the packing!

Cassandra Frear  – (December 1, 2009 at 8:47 AM)  

Dear friend, my heart is with you. I'd feel the same way.

Jody Hedlund  – (December 4, 2009 at 12:41 AM)  

Pleased to meet you, Amy! What a touching story and I just loved the way you told it. Sounds like you'll be very busy in the days to come with moving. Blessings!

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