So while I was at college not even a month into the school year, my mom and sister decided to get rid of my kitty due to flea problems. My sister was apparently going nuts, washing her hair with dishsoap and being paranoid that fleas were crawling all over her. They took her to the humane society as a stray - a fucking stray. When I called to find
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When my parents split up, Sassy went with my mom because Dad isn't a big animal lover. Anyway, when I was 19 my mother died, so the cats had to come with me. At the time, I was in between apartments, and living at Dad's FOR TWO MONTHS. One weekend I went out of town (btw at this time, I only had three more weeks before I was moving out WITH the cat). When I came back, Sassy wasn't there. I asked what happened, and he said he gave her to a man who owned a farm. .... I'm calling bullshit on that. I think he brought her to the SPCA, and she was probably put down. It kills me to even think of that possibility.
It's definitely a grudge I still hold against my father. I was leaving in THREE WEEKS. Three fucking weeks. He killed my cat, and he only had to wait three weeks.
I just loved her so much, and typing about it now is really upsetting me. Be as furious as you want to be. You have every right to be devastated.
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