A few weeks ago I went out of town and missed my weekly shift at Kitty Cottage. That evening, I got a message from Michele, who also volunteers on Sundays. Her voicemail said she had exciting news for me, and though I knew it had to be good I couldn't begin to guess what it could be.
I was certainly not expecting to hear that Lucy, one of the "hoarder cats" we'd taken in, had an adoption pending. They said the potential adopter was incredibly nice, and he didn't mind a bit that she had trust issues. He'd also chosen to adopt Bernie, a mild-mannered and lovable orange and white kitty.
I didn't know Bernie well, and I hadn't met this guy...so can you blame me if I was skeptical? Was Lucy ready? How would she get along with Bernie? Did this guy really know what he was getting into?
When I returned the following Sunday, Lucy and Bernie were noticeably absent. And everyone who'd met their adopter gave glowing reports about what a wonderful person he was.
He was also reputed to be a good-looking guy, so I confess I was still a tad skeptical. Had he fooled everyone with his charm, convincing them as he'd convinced himself that he could win anyone over--even a "hoarder cat"? Was he really prepared for the commitment he'd made to provide unconditional love and care for a little cat he couldn't even touch?
I never said I wasn't jaded.
I missed a couple more shifts at Kitty Cottage, one for a trip home and another for our annual silent auction. Sunday I returned for the first time in three weeks, and someone happened to vocalize the question that's been on my mind for the last month:
"I wonder how Lucy's doing."
Well, rumor has it that Lucy's just fine. She still doesn't permit her new caretaker to pet her, but she does enjoy playing with him. And she sleeps curled up with Bernie. That was enough for me to trust that Lucy will adapt and that she's in good hands.
One of my other concerns about Lucy leaving was how Mina and Persephone would cope without their sister. Mina's pretty independent, but Persephone is the shyest of the three and seemed to be very close to Lucy. Remembering the two of them curled up together asleep, or playing together when they thought no one was looking, I felt sad for Persephone.
And indeed, that first Sunday without Lucy she seemed somewhat depressed. Mina appeared to share my concerns, and she followed Persephone around relentlessly, refusing to let her mope alone. This bittersweet demonstration broke my heart, but at the same time it gave me hope.
Last Sunday I was encouraged to see Persephone out in the open more than ever before. She wasn't necessarily any more open to human contact than before, but the fact that she sat comfortably in open space and chased a laser pointer across the floor definitely assured me that she is coping. Having to live without Lucy may actually be good for her.
Mina also chased the laser pointer today, skidding on the linoleum floor with the careless abandon of a kitten.
My heart still races at the thought of our other two "hoarder cats" eventually leaving us to live in permanent, loving homes. But the prospect isn't nearly as scary as it was before Lucy ventured out into the domesticated world. There's a real possibility that Mina and Persephone could also become pampered, adored house pets.
And they will thrive.
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