Together we’ve lamented that, sometimes, it’s just not meant to be.
But sometimes it’s not meant to be because something sweeter is meant to be…and there’s no need for lamenting after all.
While I do generally subscribe to the view that, when God closes one door, he opens another, I also know that sometimes that open door seems to be a long time coming – and sometimes it feels more like a basement crawl space than a grand entrance. (Then again, sometimes those crawl spaces lead to the most beautiful gardens our hearts can stand.)
But, happily, some doors seem to spring open almost the instant their predecessors slam shut. When they do, it’s a glorious exclamation that it was worth the pain of a false start to taste what was really meant to be.
Never was this clearer than for Kurt.
Ah, Kurt. With Marshmallow and Ace, our sable guy knows a thing or ten about waiting longer than makes sense. For at least two years now, Kurt has been one of the snuggliest, funniest, most irresistible faces in Suite C…and then, for reasons I need not elaborate, in Suite A.
In all that time, Kurt never even landed the “second-choice” spot on adopters’ lists. Quite honestly, it boggles my mind. Open the suite door, and Kurt would skitter over to meet you, his increasingly saggy belly dancing in the breeze all the way. With globelike eyes and a rub-mah-belleh level of snuggliness, Kurt was a serious dreamboat.
If you needed any convincing in that department, a horde of cats would be happy to serve as Kurt’s references. As sweet as he was on humans, that love couldn’t compare to his affection for fellow felines.
I suppose that should be no surprise, given the quartet in which Kurt was first violin. His constant companion and sidekick (if not quite second fiddle), Sylvan, came from the same shelter together with Kurt, and was equally cat-smitten. We’ve already met high-strung, highly-awesome viola Puzzle, he of the titanic love of cats. And, rounding out the group was gentle cello Precious, whose current affection for felines from Desi to Venice is the stuff of legend.
Interestingly, these four also arrived at Tabby’s Place with another common quality: terror.
Yes, even Kurt, snuggle-bug Kurt, wasn’t always so keen on human beans. In fact, it was a good six months after his arrival before we could make eye contact with the big guy without sending him skittering. Thanks to superhuman patience on the part of staff and volunteers (including P., aka The Treat Man), Kurt – and then Puzzle, and then Sylvan, and increasingly Precious – became a veritable love bug.
So why no forever family?
We thought we had our answer when a seemingly meant-to-be adopter came along. Mr. AlmostAdopter took a bright shine to Kurt, and it seemed a perfect pairing. We all began to celebrate this overdue, much-deserved turn of events.
The news of Kurt’s likely adoption broke at least one heart – big time. Longtime, ultra-extraordinary volunteer L. had nursed a crush on Kurt for ages, and she’d been quietly considering adding him to her own family. Now it seemed that this could never be.
Cue the slamming of the first door.
To make a long (and, frankly, somewhat strange) story short, Mr. AlmostAdopter and Kurt were not meant to be. When Kurt’s old terror reared its head (as terror loves to do in new circumstances), it was the end of the road, and Kurt was again adoptable.
Like The Treat Man and several of our other volunteers, L. has always had an eerie knack for sending the cats – all the cats – over the moon with love. Many a time I’ve gazed into Suite C to see L. surrounded by cats – friendly cats, scared cats, no-see-um-because-they’re-petrified cats. Whatever It is that makes cats feel at home, L. has It in spades. I admire that immensely. In fact, I want to be more like L. when I grow up.
But, for now, it’s enough to happy-dance over L.’s sweetest, meant-to-be-est story: adopting Kurt.
I’ve never been happier that a potential adoption didn’t work out. 🙂