The kittens I have been fostering for over a month, these three babies who have shared my life, my home, and even my bed, who have curled up in my arms so many times, who seek me out, meeping for attention, and whose little faces brighten my every day--they are going up for adoption on Saturday.
This is the hard part. Not just that they won't be here anymore. I'll miss them, sure, but the most difficult part for me is the idea that they will be going home with people I don't know. People who might hurt them, declaw them, not give them proper veterinary care, or just not love them. People whom I won't be able to ask for pictures to see what they look like grown up. I hope for the best home for them, but it's hard to tell just meeting a person once.
People fill out an application, but many of them get annoyed with us for having rules, for wanting to make sure these babies get the best possible home. They don't understand how much of our hearts are invested in each and every one, and that it will be torture to think that we've made a mistake screening the adopters.
I knew it would be difficult, but I told myself not to get so attached. Yes, I'm an idiot. I want to see them grow up. I want to know that their lives are good. I want them to be adored and spoiled and happy, but I also want to know for certain that they are adored and spoiled and happy instead of wondering and hoping, and not knowing.
Perhaps it is the effect of my larger anxiety issues. I've always been absolutely tormented by not knowing something. The worst thing a person can do to me is tell me, "We have to talk. But later." I lose my mind when that happens. I think my parents had to keep holiday gifts at relatives' houses because I was SO bad about snooping. I didn't do it to be a pain, mom; it just drove me absolutely up a wall to have things right in front of me and not know what they were.
So now I have to give up my little girls, who are such good girls; loving, cuddly, sweet as pie, and very well behaved (well, okay, Charlotte climbs the Xmas tree and removes the garland, but that's cute). I socialized them, I never denied them a moment's worth of love and affection, I worried sick when they went in for spaying, and I could describe each and every personality quirk about them. For sisters, they are as different from one another as they could possibly be, and I know all of the ways in which they are different.
Charlotte, the sweet, gentle one, with big innocent eyes, who flops like a rubber band if picked up. Anya, the strong, quiet, wary one, with cautious, wise eyes who will curl up tightly in the crook of my arm. Ptera, the whiny, jealous one who can't stand to be in a different room from me; if we are separated by a floor, she cries and cries until called.
They are precious and beautiful, each one, and I am going to miss them so much.
(click the thumb for a larger photo)
Front: Anya Left: Ptera Right: Charlotte
(Honestly, this really is her only vice)
Anya and Charlotte:
Ptera and Dom:
Anya and Ptera: