Funny how timing can be so right.
And funny how “right” can be so hard when it comes to a beloved cat getting adopted.
It was less than a month ago that I sang my paean to Lucia here on Felis Catus. My reasons were two: (1) I adore her and (2) I felt she was one of those cats who falls through the cracks when potential adopters visit, nudged out of the spotlight by flashier felines with louder personalities.
But no sooner did that first Lucia-centric post publish, than a process was set in motion that would guarantee Lucia would never fall between any kind of cracks again.
Just a week or so after Lucia’s blog post went public, she hit the big time (as “big” goes in Ringoes, NJ, anyhow). Lucia was selected as our local newspaper’s “adoptable pet of the week,” and…well, we all know where that leads.
Lucia, my loves, has left the building. That’s right: the emerald of Suite C is in her very own forever home – and Mr. and Mrs. Lucia are positively smitten with their girl.
For my part, I can’t blame them.
Well, actually…I can. And I do. For taking Lucia away, that is.
All kidding aside, I am thrilled for our dainty, quiet snuggle-bug. This forever home is everything Lucia deserved. Her whole roller-coaster ride – from a house with 40+ cats, to a time of terror cowering in our Quarantine area, to a sweeter season in Suite C – has led to this point. She has a whole lifetime to adore and be adored by the family that belongs to her now.
And that makes saying goodbye easier…on a cognitive level, anyway. Yes, my brain agrees eagerly, yes, it is excellent that Lucia should leave Tabby’s Place. Yes, I am happy – cognitively happy – to see her set sail for a forever home.
But ah, my foolish heart.
Funny how it doesn’t get any easier. No matter how many favorites I adore, no matter how many times I say tearful, thrilled, dismayed-but-mostly-delighted “good goodbyes,” I can’t become immune to that happy cataclysm that certain cats wreak on my heart.
I guess this is a good thing. The day I stop caring, stop feeling a twinge of sorrow, when a beloved cat leaves, is the day my heart has grown too cold. I don’t plan on giving that day a chance (as if I had a choice in the matter). Rest assured that there will be many tear-stained-yet-happy posts yet ahead as I give my foolish heart away over and over again.
How can I do anything other when there are cats like Lucia involved?
The moral of the story? It is, as some great sage once said, all good. Good for all of us foolish-hearted human beans that get to love and love and love again. Good for all of the cats who fill our hearts. And so much more than good for the one and only Lucia.