What the hell else?

Just got home a bit ago from an adoption event with my new foster kitty, Lil’ Joe, and not 30 minutes later, some folks working upstairs in the apartment above mine knocked a HOLE in the ceiling in my BATHROOM. About a foot wide hole! 

Sometimes I think they should pay ME to live here. Jesus.

Guilt

I don’t know how I could have made a choice other than the one I made, given the circumstances.

Still, I chose to end Casey’s life.  In a matter of minutes, because that’s all I had.

Had I had much more money, were I wealthy, I would have likely made a different decision. I would have told the vet to do everything in her power to save my boy. To hell with the expense. This is my baby we’re talking about.

But I’m not wealthy. And money was a factor. And I HATE THAT. It makes me sick to think about.

What if I’d had health insurance for Casey? How might that have changed things?

This isn’t like my other babies. My other babies that I had no way of saving.

And perhaps the best efforts wouldn’t have saved Casey either. He may not have made it, regardless of how much money I was able to pay the vet to try to save him. The vet told me so. She said that we’d be discussing euthanasia regardless of money, because he was that sick.

But, oh, to have had a few thousand dollars in my account to spend. It may not have worked, but maybe it would have. Maybe he would still be here with me. He would be on medication for the rest of his life, and there would be no telling how long his life would have been, but maybe he would be here.

I didn’t want him to suffer. He was suffering, as anyone who has ever experienced struggling to breathe knows. I know how it feels to not be able to breathe. I saw him gasping for breath. He didn’t even look at me because he was freaking out from not being able to breathe.

I hope I made the right decision. The vet said she thought it was a good decision. But it was the hardest decision I’ve made so far in my life. The hardest. The decision to let my little boy go.

I try to do good by my animals. I try to give them good lives with good food and good care. But sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve to have any of them, because I can’t give them everything I wish I could. I can’t give them the best food and the best care. I can’t give my girls a yard to run in. I can’t give my boys lots of room to run and things to climb. I know they could have better lives than the lives they have, and it hurts to know that I can’t give it to them.

My heart is breaking, again. I love Puddin’, Penny, Neville and Andrew so much, loved Casey so much, loved Pip, Piper, Bella, Xander and Felix so much. I feel I fail them all every single day. I want them to have better.

But I don’t know that anyone could love them as much as I do. I just really wish I could give them more of what they need and more to make their lives richer.

My Casey

My Casey

Originally uploaded by KelliAmanda

My Casey-boo died yesterday morning. My little mustache-man, and Neville’s best buddy, is gone.

I never thought I’d lose another kitty so soon after losing my five furbabies in the fire. I never thought I’d have to make the decision to euthanize a cat that was not quite 1.5 years old.

I went to a wedding Saturday night and came home around 11 p.m. to find Casey breathing more heavily than normal. I suspected he had eaten something he wasn’t supposed to, that maybe he was constipated or something like that. I thought he would be okay. I didn’t suspect an emergency.

I went to bed and woke up around 4 a.m. to him panting and moving from spot to spot in the apartment. He couldn’t settle. I called the Emergency Vet (thank goodness I live somewhere that has an Emergency Vet) and made the decision to take him in. We got there around 5 a.m.

By the time we got there, his breathing was very labored and crackly sounding. They took him on back and the vet came out and said he had developed congestive heart failure. His lungs were filled with fluid. She had put him in an oxygen cage and given him a sedative and a diuretic to try to pull the fluid out of his lungs, but he wasn’t doing well at all and she was honest with me that he likely wouldn’t live that long. She said that he likely had a heart defect, given his developing congestive heart failure at such a young age.

She said they could try this and this and this, but that it wasn’t likely to work and would cost anywhere from $800 – $2000 (for the next 48 hours of his time at the Emergency Vet). She took me back to see him, and he was gasping for air. Casey-boo was so pitiful, and I didn’t see that I had another choice but to let the vet euthanize him at that point. She was supportive of my decision to let him go and said she thought it was a good decision.

I didn’t even get the vet’s name. She was very compassionate, though.

I opted to have Casey cremated and will get his ashes later this week or early next week. That was one thing I knew I wanted, as I didn’t have anything from my other furkids.

Casey, my sweet boy, my too-soos, my little freckle foot, you will always be missed. You have Pip, Piper, Bella, Xander and Felix to keep you company in kitty heaven.

I just can’t believe he’s gone. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

How much is within our control?

I intended to spend the first part of today studying at Barnes & Noble, but, alas, I ended up reading. I read Fish!, a book about improving work morale and learning to enjoy your work. Lord knows I need something to help me feel better about work. With everything going on at work right now, it’s not easy to have a positive attitude. All the news is bad these days. All of it.

The stuff I’ve been reading lately places a lot of emphasis on choosing your attitude, choosing happiness, etc. etc. And, to be honest, I have a hard time seeing how it is possible to choose your attitude about everything. I understand the idea behind choosing your attitude, but I don’t know how much I agree with the reality of choosing your attitude.

I also don’t know how much of the way I feel about things is under my control and how much is because of the depression. I know that when I’m not depressed, it’s a lot easier to not worry about things, to be more upbeat, to have a more positive attitude. When the drugs aren’t working, though, it can be nearly impossible.

The points made in the book Fish! make a lot of sense, assuming you believe that one has the ability to choose one’s attitude in every situation – why would you choose to be miserable in your work when you spend most of your waking hours at work? Why not choose to have a good attitude at work? You may not have a job you love, but you can do your job as if you love it.

I don’t know if I buy it.

I also don’t know why it’s hard for me to give something that could make life easier a chance. I don’t know why I have a hard time even thinking about things that could make me happy, or at least happier, much less putting those things into action. I don’t know why the concept of happiness is so abstract for me. It seems very out of reach. I honestly don’t know the last time I was truly happy, but I do know that it wasn’t recently.

I realize, however, that even if my career changes, as it will at some point, my troubles are going to follow me as long as I let them. It’s obvious to me that changing jobs within my current field won’t help matters for me. I’d like to think that once I’m in a career that’s a better fit for me, I will be a happier person, but I don’t really believe that’s the case. I think that I’m going to be miserable as long as I continue thinking that I don’t deserve to be happy, regardless of my career path. I think that there are some things, like making more money, that could take away some of the stress that I currently feel that contributes to my being unhappy, but I think that ultimately, I’m going to have to try to buy in to the “happiness is a choice” stuff and figure out how to be happy regardless of my circumstances.

I do know that it’s true that there are some people who are, by nature, more optimistic and others who are down all the time, and that it often has little to do with the life circumstances for those people, but more with how they view those circumstances. I do have a “victim” view of myself, especially in regards to dealing with difficult people, and, frankly, I’m tired of letting others have so much control over me. I can’t change the fact that I have to deal with some really difficult people on a daily basis, but I have to figure out a way to not let those people affect me as much as they do. Not sure how the hell to do that, but…

what choice do I have?

Another possibility for Andrew

The family that adopted my first foster kitty emailed to see if I had any other fosters because they are considering getting a second young cat – they currently have Pietra, formerly Wink, who is about a year old, and a 15-year-old cat who, well, just doesn’t want to play with Pietra.

After much deliberation, I decided I would tell them about Andrew. I know he would have a good home with them if they decided to adopt him, so…

It still breaks my heart that I can’t/shouldn’t keep him. But I just spent a chunk of change at the vet today for Penny’s annual visit, heartworm pills for both the girls and glucosamine tabs for Pen, and that reminded me of why I don’t need a third cat. I need to focus on the ones I’m committed to caring for.

It still hurts. I wish I felt more certain that I was making the right decision in letting Andrew go. I did decide that I wasn’t going to take him to adoption events anymore but that I would wait and see for a while if the right people came along. I know that Pietra’s owners would be an ideal family for Andrew. They are wonderful people and I felt good about them adopting Wink/Pietra when I met them the first time. Visiting their home just confirmed it.

I don’t think I’ll be doing any more fostering, though. I don’t deal well with saying goodbye to my babies.

Trying to not freak the f*&% out.

Anxiety level is through the roof again. I’m trying hard to not freak out about every. single. thing. but I’m, um, having a hard time not freaking out. I wish I could blog truly anonymously right now, but even though almost no one reads my blog, it would be just my luck that I’d write the wrong thing and the wrong person would read it, and, well…

I’m limiting my news exposure because the news is all bad. It’s really really depressing. I’m focusing on my furbabies, and they are keeping me going right now. I’m terrified of getting laid off and have no earthly idea how I will deal if I do. The financial situation at work seems to be getting worse. I want to go back to school, but can’t right now. I’m afraid I will have to move at the end of May, and I don’t know where I’m going to go or how the hell I’m going to pay for it. I need to have Puddin’s teeth cleaned, and it’s high on my priority list, even if some people think it shouldn’t be.  It’s going to be expensive, but I had Penny’s teeth cleaned last year and Puddin’s cleaning is long overdue. I had to have my car serviced, to the tune of $515, and Pud’s cleaning is next up on the list of things I have to do. I know it probably makes more sense financially to hold onto whatever money I’ve got coming in, but I also am committed to taking care of my babies the best I can, and at this point, not getting her teeth cleaned is not an option. Her teeth are in pretty bad shape, and a cleaning will add to the quality of, and possibly the length of, her life.

So, freaking out and trying to not freak out. Trying to keep my head on straight. Trying to believe that things will work out for the good and not the bad. Trying to take everything one day at a time and stop looking at the big picture, because the big picture is overwhelming. Trying to remember to breathe. 

And trying to stop being a fortune teller when I have no way of telling the future. None of us know what’s going to happen tomorrow or next week or next year. I have GOT to stop worrying about those things I have no control over. I have to let it go and do the best I can with what I know and what I have.

A decision

The couple that came to meet Andrew really were wonderful. They have eight cats already and their cats are their babies. They go to great lengths to make their home a real cat haven. 

They decided that Andrew probably wouldn’t fit with their mix of kitties. He is a laid-back little guy, and their younger cats are high strung, independent and dominant, and they worried that he would get lost in the mix. I worried too.

They said it seems he already has found his forever home. That it was obvious that we had bonded, and that he and my other cats had bonded. They asked what was keeping me from adopting him. I told them that it just didn’t make sense for me financially right now, and with planning to go back to school at some point, and not knowing what’s going to happen in my job with more layoffs coming at work…

They offered to pay part of his adoption fee. I declined, but really appreciated the offer.

But I don’t think I can part with Andrew. I know it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense at all to commit myself to another animal. I told my grandmother last night, and she said she just doesn’t understand how I can, with money as tight as it is right now.

I know. I know. I also know that it didn’t make sense when I adopted the dogs. I had no money. But I’m forever glad I did. I know it doesn’t make sense to add a third cat. That I’m making things harder on myself financially adding a third cat permanently. 

But I can’t let him go. That doesn’t make sense either. So, I’m going to suck it up and make the decision to keep Andrew and deal with the consequences of that decision as they arise. And I’m going to try to stop looking for trouble where there doesn’t have to exist any.

Right now…

Right now I am blogging while a purring kitten sits on my shoulder. I am resting my cheek on his back. He is purring in my ear, his long bushy tail trailing down toward my lap.  This is Andrew.

Right now we are waiting for a couple who wants to adopt Andrew to come and meet him. They will be here in about 20 minutes, I expect. Andrew has no idea that his life could soon be turned upside down. I can’t stop crying.

I am no nearer to knowing what the right decision is. One of the long-time fosters in the rescue group I volunteer with said that this couple is WONDERFUL!!! But they also have a lot of cats already. Why do they want to adopt another, I wonder?

Andrew just nuzzled my neck and licked my cheek. Then he wrapped his bushy tail around my neck. That is why it is so hard to know what to do. He’s too sweet. And I’m too attached, I suppose.

I thought about calling the couple this morning before they left home to tell them that I had decided to keep him. But then I tell myself that it’s only fair to meet them and see how he does with them. Maybe they really are wonderful. Maybe they have a good reason for wanting another cat. Who am I to say how many is too many? Some people think that I have too many animals, but it doesn’t feel like too many to me.

Would Andrew do well in a home with a lot of other cats? He’s such a needy little guy, would he get enough attention? It’s not the situation I would choose for him, but they are the only ones who have expressed a real interest in him.

Andrew.

So, there’s a possible home for my Andrew. The application that came in wasn’t for him, but the people are interested in adopting two cats and apparently have a fondness for medium – long haired cats, of which Andrew is one.

And I don’t know what to do. The whole thing makes me sick. The thought of letting my Andrew go…

It may be a moot point, as they might choose one of the other kitties over Andrew anyway. They haven’t met him and might fall for one of the others.

What if I make the wrong decision? These people sound like good people. I don’t doubt that Andrew would be well cared for. Their previous kitties lived to be 20 and 17 years old. The husband works out of the home. The wife’s a teacher. They’re cat people.

And I have my other babies to think of. My Neville, who’s very much a lap cat when I let him be. And Casey, who’s sitting on the back of my chair right now (Andrew’s cuddled with Neville on the dog bed on the floor). And, of course, Puddin’ and Penny, my baby girls who are aging and will likely be needing more care sooner rather than later.

I feel so torn. My heart aches. I’m terrified that giving him up will be the wrong decision. That I will miss him more than I can bear. Yes, the pain would ease with time and I know that, but I gave up a dog I rescued years ago and I have never “gotten over it.” I have always regretted giving that dog up, at least giving him to the people I gave him to.

I’m afraid to say, “Sure, they can meet Andrew,” because then, if they fall in love with him, I won’t be able to say, “Sorry, I’ve changed my mind.” That’s not fair to those people at all. Right now they haven’t met him, so it’s not a big deal to them should I decide to adopt him myself.

Financially – on the one hand, one more cat isn’t that big of a deal, especially when he’s young. On the other hand, it doesn’t make much sense for me to adopt a third cat. Of course, it didn’t make any sense at all when I adopted Puddin’ and Penny – my bank account was pretty empty when I paid their adoption fees. With Neville and Casey, it wasn’t such a big deal. Right now, not knowing if I’m going to have a job or not, well, it doesn’t make sense for me to have any animals at all, does it?

I’m not good at weighing the options. It’s a matter of my heart versus my head, emotion versus logic.

I don’t know what to do. I really really don’t know what to do.

The crazy upstairs neighbors make life a little too interesting sometimes.

I had quite the morning Friday!

My alarm went off and not 30 seconds later I hear BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM. POLICE, OPEN THE DOOR! POLICE, OPEN THE DOOR! It sounded like they were outside my window, but they were actually at the apartment above mine. Of course I flipped out thinking “fire” even though no one said fire. I hadn’t really registered what they said, being half asleep, and that was my immediate reaction. I was trying to figure out getting the animals and ran into the living room to see if there was fire, but nothing. So I put on my coat over my pajamas and started outside not knowing what was going on, and the office out front says, “Please go back inside ma’am.”

Anyway, I suspect it was a drug raid. There were officers with helmets and rifles – real SWAT team looking gear. Scared me half to death. I couldn’t stop shaking and called my grandmother and ended up in tears, but was finally able to calm down. Just had that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach when I thought it was another fire. My upstairs neighbors weren’t home. I have long wondered if they were dealing drugs out of that apartment, based on the number of people coming and going at all hours of the day and night, but of course I didn’t have any hard evidence or anything. When I left to come to work, there were two officers standing outside my neighbors’ front door, one holding a rifle, and there were still officers and dogs inside the apartment. Yikes. The officers apologized for scaring me and one said, “We’re just trying to make sure you have a good place to live, ma’am.” I told them I appreciated that.

What a way to wake up, eh?

At least one of the people who lives in the apartment upstairs is still there, but I don’t know who it is, as I haven’t seen him/her, only heard them. I don’t know if anyone was arrested or if they found anything, though I can’t imagine that the police would have raided a private residence at 7 a.m. without some pretty good evidence…