The Purrfect Ending

Well, here it is: Christmas Eve, and I am just sad as can be. BUT, I'm also very happy at the same time.

Something rather extraordinary happened to me this week. As most of my avid blog readers (all 3 of you) know, a few posts back I mentioned a stray cat I found around Halloween and brought back to my apartment until I could figure out what to do with him. As I quickly realized, he was not going to get along with my cat, Harley, and Harley wasn't too fond of him, either. I decided not to take him to the animal shelter because I just couldn't bear the thought of anything bad happening to him, so I took him to the vet, gave him a bath and decided to start calling him Rascal.

As days and weeks passed, I definitely bonded with Rascal a bit, and kept hoping that the two furry men of the house would just get along in order to make a less-hostile living environment for all three of us throughout the duration of Rascal's stay.

Yeah, that didn't happen, and as it turned out, Rascal was becoming an even bigger pain-in-the-ass than I originally thought. The first occurrence that really ignited my anger had to do with the venetian blinds I have covering the sliding door to my balcony. Rascal would get behind the blinds and then run back and forth repeatedly for hours on end. It doesn't seem that awful, but it was louder than you might think, and every evening while I was trying to relax at home and watch television, I could barely hear myself think. Solution: I had to open the blinds all the way up and tape them together.

So... that was a small sacrifice. Not a big deal. But you may recall the mention of Rascal's constant hunger in my other posting. This guy was hungry all the time. He would have eaten a bag of cat food a day if he had been allowed. Much to my chagrin, I came home one day to discover that he had managed to open the door to my pantry, where I kept the food. Not only that, but he also ripped up part of my linoleum floor in the process.

Yes, that was a little infuriating for sure, but I glued the floor back down with Gorilla Glue and then kept my kitchen doors closed during the day while I was gone. That is, until, he figured out how to open those. I was away on a work trip at the time and received a picture message from his babysitter illustrating how he had broken into the kitchen, ate a loaf of bread on the counter and knocked over the trashcan to get at the empty bag of cat chow. My good friend, bless her heart, tied the kitchen doors shut to prevent any further break-ins.

Every time I would get so mad at him and think I was just going to take him to the shelter, I still couldn't do it. I did love him, after all. This was until the final nail was hammered into the coffin. One day last week, I caught him peeing on my couch. For those of you who don't know, the scent of cat urine is notoriously potent and extremely difficult to get rid of. I was kind of furious, seeing as how my couch is still basically brand new.

That evening, I decided to post an article about him on Craig's List. I've used this website a few times before and never had any issues with crazies buying my furniture, but trying to find a good home for a living creature on there made me a little apprehensive. Not knowing what else to do at that point, I figured I'd at least try and see what kind of response I would get.

The next afternoon, I received a message from someone claiming to be his real mother. I was super-excited at first, and then thought, Nuh uh. There's no way. I wrote the woman back and explained that Craig's List makes me a bit paranoid and would she mind describing her cat and when/where she lost him so I would know if she was trying to bullshit me or not.

Sure enough she responded: He has big green eyes, fluffy gray striped fur, extra toes and a big fluffy tail. She also attached a picture of him to the message and when I opened it, there was Rascal's cute face staring back at me. She had also mentioned that he ran away just before Halloween, and when I looked her address up on a map, saw that she didn't live too incredibly far from where I found him.

I called her up right away, and she was crying she was so excited. She had asked if I could bring him over that evening because she missed him so much, as did his other cat buddy, who she said was lost without him. His real name is Kramer. As happy as I was, I was immediately sad as I packed Kramer up in the kitty travel bag to take him back to his home.

That was just two days ago, and despite all the ways he tortured Harley and ripped up my apartment, I now miss him terribly. But the wonderful thing is that I know I found him the absolute best home possible, and I can rest assured that he is safe and sound with his real family. And I was so glad I kept him as long as I did and felt very lucky that I got to have him in my life for a short while. Now, as he gets readjusted to living back in his house, I hope he never forgets his foster mom and how much she loved his crazy little self.