I want to start- right up front- by saying that I’m an animal person BIG time.
The second thing I need to say is that Ben and I made a heartbreaking decision to put our darling Princess Luna up for adoption- or… (fill in the blank).
There- I’ve said it.
I feel terrible- absolutely devastated, irresponsible, shallow, small, weak, incompetent.
And I need to talk.
Even if it’s just me to myself.
She came to us in a thunderstorm, at Halloween, un-adoptable because she was a ‘black’ cat- and no one seems to want black cats- for pets.
But my sister did (she was with me). Melissa loved her immediately. So animated. So bold. So strong (shared spirits?).
Bryn agreed and we left with her under my arm.
Luna has been my gardening partner, loved to knit, a door greeter at every party, her Daddy’s football buddy, our watch dog, and overall love machine.
Absolute perfection, except… she hated our other cats.
And overnight guests.
And anything ‘out-of-place’.
And sharing me.
She ‘sprayed’ luggage, drapes, boxes and beds.
She ran our home and was a dilettante- her way or the highway.
Our youngest cat, Baby Earl, ‘wetting’ himself (I’m not kidding) when she stalked and attacked him, was the straw that broke the animal behaviorist’s back (we had called in an expert), and the reason she went on Prozac! OMG! Prozac! Which only made things worse.
Ben was trying to separate them between rooms, and hours, and life- but it only succeeded in separating us.
It was a pleasant house or her.
We choose us.
And so it was with deep sorrow that I took her to our Veterinary practice to see if they could maneuver a ‘special needs’ adoption by the end of the week.
She was a storm, and a devil, and a diva.
She was a lover, and a muse, and a friend.
But mostly she was a Princess…