Parenting cats
I feel like a bad cat-mom.
Sam and I have two cats. We had three until last October when Five (the middle kitty, but also the smallest and blackest) slipped past me when I was heading out the door one evening. I cried, I put up posters, I walked the neighborhood with flashlights and friends, I coordinated with neighbors, my breath caught when someone would call saying they'd seen a cat of his description running in their yard.
We never found him.
Winter was rough. I was sick a lot, and there was a lot going on (as some of you might have an inkling is the case). In March, with lots of other stressors on my plate, I decided to go see an allergist. My allergy medicines weren't working so well, it was starting to warm up, and so I thought I'd best see one before seasonal allergies became a huge problem. Except what I discovered was not that I was allergic to seasonal stuff - no, I'm allergic to our cats.
The remedies? $250 to $300 in allergy medications every month, plus the creation of a cat-free bedroom zone. (Make sense; if I spent 8 hours in bed ever night, that's a third of my life I'm not being exposed.) But that was still crushing. Especially when Sam was away, the cats snuggling up to me at night was a huge comfort and pleasure.
Fast forward to now; we're moving. Sam has a job in San Francisco, we found a great place, and this is all happiness. Except realistically, maintaining a home large enough and segregated enough to make a cat-free sleeping zone is more difficult out there. It's feasible in this three bedroom house, but the cute one-bedroom with the bedroom separated by Japanese-feel paper sliding doors? Not likely. We lucked out in that we technically can have cats there if we feel like it's a good idea to bring them, but we don't. It's a long drive, with expensive medication and a lot of being cut off on the other end.
Our ex-roommate is going to take the youngest and largest of the cats - Kolya - but we still need to find a home for Neal.
It already feels bad enough that we need to give them up, but on top of that, after being away from them for a week, I can certainly feel the difference in my health (even medicated!) being around them versus not. And we sold most of our furniture, so the only reasonable place for me to sit and work on the computer is... the bed. In the room they're barred from.
So we need to give them up, but it feels like I've had to hide from them in my bedroom since I've been back in Omaha. I can hear them meowing out on the upstairs landing; I know they want attention, affection, all of those things cats get and give so well.
I'd feel a lot better if I know Neal (the oldest of the cats) was going to a good home. If you think you or someone you know might be interested in taking in a gorgeous mid-hair male cat, please let me know. He's neutered but not declawed, with excellent claw discipline (even around kids who tug on his tail I've never seen him swipe with claws out). He's extremely well-behaved; he scratches at stuff, but that stuff can be the appropriate stuff (scratching posts/mats/towers) if supplied. He does not play bite or nip. He likes to jump up on laps and butt your chin with his head to say he loves you. If you pet his stomach, he will flop a leg over your arm for maximum access. Sometimes when he carries around certain toys, his meow changes to a croak. If you imitate this noise, he'll bring you the toy he's carrying. He'll also generally chat with you if you meow in similar tones to him. He will figure out where you keep the treats and absolutely be underfoot anytime you approach that part of your home in even the most vague sense. He is fascinated with the other side of any door. He does not always want to stay on the other side, but he knows he wants to get there. He is not overly needy, and does not need attention every moment of the day; he's quite independent and happy to lay in a sunny spot, bright white belly up, airing himself out.
I love him a million billion. Do you know someone who could, too?
Sam and I have two cats. We had three until last October when Five (the middle kitty, but also the smallest and blackest) slipped past me when I was heading out the door one evening. I cried, I put up posters, I walked the neighborhood with flashlights and friends, I coordinated with neighbors, my breath caught when someone would call saying they'd seen a cat of his description running in their yard.
We never found him.
Winter was rough. I was sick a lot, and there was a lot going on (as some of you might have an inkling is the case). In March, with lots of other stressors on my plate, I decided to go see an allergist. My allergy medicines weren't working so well, it was starting to warm up, and so I thought I'd best see one before seasonal allergies became a huge problem. Except what I discovered was not that I was allergic to seasonal stuff - no, I'm allergic to our cats.
The remedies? $250 to $300 in allergy medications every month, plus the creation of a cat-free bedroom zone. (Make sense; if I spent 8 hours in bed ever night, that's a third of my life I'm not being exposed.) But that was still crushing. Especially when Sam was away, the cats snuggling up to me at night was a huge comfort and pleasure.
Fast forward to now; we're moving. Sam has a job in San Francisco, we found a great place, and this is all happiness. Except realistically, maintaining a home large enough and segregated enough to make a cat-free sleeping zone is more difficult out there. It's feasible in this three bedroom house, but the cute one-bedroom with the bedroom separated by Japanese-feel paper sliding doors? Not likely. We lucked out in that we technically can have cats there if we feel like it's a good idea to bring them, but we don't. It's a long drive, with expensive medication and a lot of being cut off on the other end.
Our ex-roommate is going to take the youngest and largest of the cats - Kolya - but we still need to find a home for Neal.
It already feels bad enough that we need to give them up, but on top of that, after being away from them for a week, I can certainly feel the difference in my health (even medicated!) being around them versus not. And we sold most of our furniture, so the only reasonable place for me to sit and work on the computer is... the bed. In the room they're barred from.
So we need to give them up, but it feels like I've had to hide from them in my bedroom since I've been back in Omaha. I can hear them meowing out on the upstairs landing; I know they want attention, affection, all of those things cats get and give so well.
I'd feel a lot better if I know Neal (the oldest of the cats) was going to a good home. If you think you or someone you know might be interested in taking in a gorgeous mid-hair male cat, please let me know. He's neutered but not declawed, with excellent claw discipline (even around kids who tug on his tail I've never seen him swipe with claws out). He's extremely well-behaved; he scratches at stuff, but that stuff can be the appropriate stuff (scratching posts/mats/towers) if supplied. He does not play bite or nip. He likes to jump up on laps and butt your chin with his head to say he loves you. If you pet his stomach, he will flop a leg over your arm for maximum access. Sometimes when he carries around certain toys, his meow changes to a croak. If you imitate this noise, he'll bring you the toy he's carrying. He'll also generally chat with you if you meow in similar tones to him. He will figure out where you keep the treats and absolutely be underfoot anytime you approach that part of your home in even the most vague sense. He is fascinated with the other side of any door. He does not always want to stay on the other side, but he knows he wants to get there. He is not overly needy, and does not need attention every moment of the day; he's quite independent and happy to lay in a sunny spot, bright white belly up, airing himself out.
I love him a million billion. Do you know someone who could, too?