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…

Still here, still me.

This has been probably the least sad Valentine’s Day I’ve had in a while. That it is on a Saturday helps. That my mind is occupied by stress that leaves no room for thoughts of what I’m missing in the way of romance helps too.

I’d rather be feeling sorry for myself regarding the lack of a significant other than be under the stress I’m currently under, though. In truth, I’ve given little thought to V-Day this year.

Trying to stay as positive as I can right now. Will I lose my job? No idea. I’m hoping for the best and expecting the worst after one coworker was laid off last week. At least then I won’t be surprised if it happens. At least, I don’t think I will. I probably will anyway, regardless.

I’m nauseated all the time now. Every morning and all day long. Just thinking about throwing up makes me throw up. Just typing that sentence makes me gag. I don’t know if it’s nerves or what, but it’s getting old fast.

My grandmother sent me a nice package for Valentine’s Day. I knew she’d send a card, but I didn’t expect the rest. I love her so much, and sometimes I think that, should I lose my job, moving back to Wilmington wouldn’t be such a bad thing. At least I’d be near her.

My biggest and most heartbreaking (for me) issue right now is my foster kitty, Andrew. My upstairs neighbors, the ones I don’t particularly like, found him when he was a wee one, and he was a pitiful little thing, with shaking eyes, uneven pupils and wobbly legs. We thought he might have feline distemper or some other such horrible condition and that he might have to be euthanized, (and I probably already blogged this, but I’m too lazy to look back to see) and he spent the next day at the vet and was tested for everything, and by the end of the day, his eyes had stopped shaking and he was less wobbly, and they said he probably just had a head injury. No telling what happened to him, but he’s fine now, except for his eyes, which are slow to respond to light and still have different sized pupils. They are a bit upturned too, so I say he has moon eyes.

Andrew isn’t the cutest of kittens, but he has a handsome medium length coat and a very bushy tail. And he happens to be one of the sweetest cats I’ve ever known. He gives kisses. He sleeps beside me every night. He kneads my head and burrows in my hair. He’s a lover.

And I can’t keep him. He’s a foster kitten, and I’ve had him for four months, and I haven’t had a single application for him. I want to keep him, but I know I shouldn’t. And it’s breaking my heart to think of parting with him.

Two dogs and three cats sounds like more than it feels like to me. If I knew I wasn’t going to lose my job, I think I’d just adopt him. But not knowing…

He’s such a good boy. Such a sweetie pie. He and Casey wrestle and all three of my boys get along wonderfully.

I want to keep him. So much. And I’m afraid I will regret giving him up, and I don’t want to make a decision I will regret. I keep telling myself that if it’s the right family, it will be different. My other foster kitties are doing well in their new homes. They are well loved. But I wasn’t as attached to them as I am to Andrew. Or maybe its because I know that they are happy in their homes.

Andrew spent a week at Petsmart (and still didn’t get an application) and when I went to see him and then to bring him back home, he was extremely clingy, crawling around my neck and giving me kisses and purring and acting like he was just. so. happy. to. see. me. Needless to say he’s a little attached to me too, which makes it that much harder.

I don’t know. I’m rambling, and I just don’t know.

Life is so not fair. How can I make a decision??????? Do I follow my heart, or my head?

I don’t know what to title this post.

So much has been running through my head lately, but I haven’t felt much like blogging. 

Mood-wise, I’m doing okay, some of the time. Life-wise, I’m really stressed. Worried about losing my job. Knowing there’s not a damn thing I can do about it, if job cuts are coming down the pipeline. Really hoping I’m one of the lucky ones. It hit a little close to home today, and it was totally unexpected. Wondering how I would handle things, and not having a clue.

Going to work, coming home, feeding the critters and myself, trying to stay up long enough to, well, stay up a while. Talking to my grandmother. Being more inclined to just go to bed. Still feeling so tired, and realizing that others might find that an old excuse, but it is what it is. Weekends are spent catching up on sleep and trying to keep the house in order. And taking my foster kitty to adoption events that totally wear me out, physically and emotionally. 

Yes, I suppose I’m being pretty damn self-centered right now, having my own little pity party. I don’t have anything more to give, though. What I have to give I give to my critters and to my job and to myself. There’s nothing left over right now. It is what it is and it sucks, but what to do? I can’t give what I don’t have to give. I don’t know when that will change, but I doubt that it’s anytime soon.

I don’t know that any of this makes much sense. I’m wiped out, freaked out and stressed out. I am trying to keep my head above water and it could be worse and I know that and hope it doesn’t get worse but I’m terrified that it will. Sigh.