Crocodile Tears

For the past six weeks, these three boys have been a big part of my life - they have cuddled on my lap, given me kisses, climbed up my legs at every opportunity, tried to munch on every meal I had. Each one was my favourite at some particular time, but I must admit the underdog snuck way, way, way deep into my heart.

The first two boys were adopted a week ago. So for the last week we've just had the one, cuddling, hanging out, chilling, chasing everything, jumping constantly on the counter. He's a great and good-natured little guy with an easy purr. We were both in love and went back and forth on whether to keep him. We even dodged calls from potential adoptees. Eventually we decided that it was just too foolish to try and have three cats (we already have two) in 700 square feet, especially as the little one would eventually grow big.

So on Sunday a young couple came over and fell in love. An hour later he was gone. I was fine at first, and didn't expect to be sad. After all - no more constant litter changing, a reclamation of the bathroom, and my own cats might stop looking so pouty. But much to my own surprise I've been devastated. Every time I walked into the bathroom for two days, I burst into tears. I sobbed after getting rid of the litter pan. I called my mother in tears. Even today, I burst into tears over the phone with D, wondering if we hadn't made a terrible mistake.

I don't think I have been this hysterical since I last broke up with a boyfriend. I still remember the day afterwards; I felt obliged to go out to a sushi-making class I'd signed up for and I wept into my rice for two hours. A girl I hadn't seen since grade 8 was there by some bizarre coincidence and she must have thought I was a complete freak. I'm sure D's co-workers think the same thing as he fields the teary call from his kitten-obsessed wife - ah, open concept.

I guess I must have a pretty happy life if this is the saddest event that has taken place in the past four years. I realise that I am probably blocking out the miscarriage - in which I'm sure I was a frazzled crybaby. But I honestly don't remember that period of time very well. I journalled it, so I could look back on it if I want, but erm... I'd rather not. Maybe someday.