Upon arriving at Kitty Cottage, the three little girls were delivered to the Shy Room where they were released and allowed to explore their new home. But they were more interested in dashing into a nearby hiding space...and there were plenty to choose from, as the Shy Room is designed to be a safe haven for nervous and fearful cats.
I have quite a soft spot for orange tabbies, and as I looked at the frightened Josephine I had a sense of deja vu. Not quite two years ago, I encountered another scared orange tabby in the shy room. He and three of his siblings had been rescued from an abusive home, and he was clearly the worst for the wear. Small and wiry to begin with, he was also malnourished and far too thin. Fleas and stress had taken a toll on his skin, and his fur was thin with large bald patches. He was skittish and high-strung, and his emaciated state made his giant ears look even bigger. His name was Pip, and he was the most beautiful kitty I'd ever seen.
Long story short, I instantly fell in love with Pip. There was something in the way he played with a joyful careless abandon--in spite of his circumstances--that spoke to me. I watched him skid wildly around the room chasing a catnip mouse until he wore himself out. When he plopped down to rest a safe distance away, I winked at him...and he answered with a playful "mrow." At that moment, something deep in my heart told me I had to take him home.
Fast forward to last Sunday. Josephine didn't want to be handled, but when I placed her in my lap she was docile enough to settle in and be petted. After a long time, she tilted her little head up to see who was holding her, and an amazing pair of round, orange-gold eyes met mine. The combination of sweetness and vulnerability in that gaze reminded me so much of Pip that I was instantly enamored.
For the next week I agonized over the conflict between my emotions and the rational part of me who knew adopting another cat was neither wise nor feasible at this time. Four cats in a one-bedroom apartment is cozy, if sometimes tense. Five cats would be too many in that small space.
Having nearly talked some sense into myself, I was anxious to see Josephine again today regardless. There was a family in the shy room when I arrived, and one of them was a girl around 12 years old. As I inched my way over to a sleeping Josephine and scooped her up, the girl's grandmother said "Look, that's the one Katie liked so much!" Katie?
I sat on the floor and crossed my legs, and Josephine settled into the crook of one of my knees. Not wanting to be territorial, I looked up at the girl and said, "You're Katie? I'm Katy too, and this is my favorite cat. Would you like to hold her?"
Katie sat on the floor and scooted toward me, and I handed the kitten over reluctantly. Josephine responded well to Katie and quickly settled into her lap. Seeing how happy and comfortable she looked made me smile. And I smiled again a few minutes later when another volunteer informed me Katie had put in an application to adopt Josephine.
So there you have it...another tiny piece of my heart will soon be going out the door in a cat carrier. But I'm not sad; how could I be? When I put my own selfish feelings aside, the truth is that I want what's best for all parties involved. I want my four cats to be happy, and I don't want to disrupt their lives again with another addition to the family (yet). I want Kitty Cottage visitors to find cats that are good matches for them. And I want Josephine to have a home where she's happy, safe and loved. I just sometimes have to remind myself that I can't take home every cat I grow to love.
Really, I'm pretty good at loving the cats while they're around and letting them go when it's time. But every now and then, some extra special kitty finds a place in my heart, and the inevitable goodbye, though happy, is tinged with a little pain.
Like I said, it's an occupational hazard.
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