You came to me on December 22, 1998, just three days before Christmas. Your step-grandmom had adopted a new sibling from me, Celeste, whom she loved dearly. But you just hated Celeste. You had never asked to live with your step-grandmom; your dad had left for the Rainbow Bridge and she was kind enough to take you in. While she provided you with a loving home, the two of you never connected, and it was clear you were an unhappy cat, which translated into an unhappy owner. Adding a sibling made matters worse. I told your step-grandmom that this was not the usual procedure – that I did not place a cat and take a cat in return – but I could tell from her voice, and from yours, it was the right thing to do. So I did.
Down you came to the Virginia Rescue Center. And, as is custom, off we went to the vet to get you checked out. So extremely agitated were you, throwing yourself against the sides of the carrier, yowling up a storm beyond anything any of us had ever heard, that the vet suggested something I never told you, but I refused to listen to her. They had to physically restrain you and heavily sedate you in order to be able to even get close.
Turned out your mouth was a shambles! No wonder you were so crabby, most of your teeth were rotten or falling out. A dental certainly was in order. And so we did one, removing most of your teeth. Surely this would make you happier, and to a very small extent, it did. You came back to the Center to settle in and build a reputation as the “Halloween Hisser”. Adopter after adopter that came through the house was taken aback by your attitude, something unparalleled in my cat experience. You certainly came across as one crabby cat.
Then along came a family in Chicago. Everyone involved felt certain you would be the appropriate fit, except perhaps you. Off you went, complaining loudly, to your new home, and back you came, just a few days later, having protested enough to terrify the family and alert the neighbors. Despite all the in-depth screening and conversations we’d had in advance, this clearly wasn’t the right fit. We were all disappointed; you were extra stressed after enduring several plane rides, and we were back to square one. After some time you settled back into your Virginia routine, still determined not to like anything about anyone.
Determined not to be a loving cat, yet looking at me with those adoring eyes. Determined not to be affectionate, yet rubbing against my legs every time I stood up. Determined not to purr, yet giving small sounds when I kissed your head. Determined not to belong to anyone, yet laying contentedly on the pillow every night. And I, determined not to fall head over heels, did. I thought you would have to stay. I knew you wanted to stay. I kissed your soft head, dodged your clawless paws, ignored your constantly crabby voice, and loved you regardless. I gazed into your big eyes, avoided your territorial stances, shared the bad and the ugly with potential adopters, and loved you even more.
Then, one day, along came two angels. They visited you many times. They listened to your rude words. They endured your angry swats and your toothless hiss. They left, but visited again. They talked – we talked – you hissed. They coaxed – we considered – you grumbled. They cajoled, you lunged, they loved you more.
Tonight you have gone with them to your new home. While you don’t believe it now, thrashing and swearing inside the carrier, they are taking you to a wonderful new life. They are earth angels, and you will go on to live out an amazing life with them and their cats. They will adore your crabbiness, your angry voice, your hissy fits, and your big blue eyes. They will kiss your head, avoid your swats, talk soothingly over your yowls, and love you forever. They will give you warmth, comfort, security, safety, and most importantly, unconditional love.
Many cats have come and gone. Each one is special, and a certain sadness accompanies the wonderful feeling of sending each off to their new home. But for you, Sebastian, for you who was crabbier beyond belief, I sit here and weep, for I will miss you deeply. With your departure has gone a piece of my heart.
Be happy, my friend. Live long and well, and learn to love Kristin and Josh, the rescue angels who could see through your exterior to the frightened insecure boy underneath. I will love you forever.
“Aunt” Siri
(Post adoption note – Sebastian went on to live a long, full and happy life with these two adopters, successfully adjusting through a number of moves and life changes. In 20+ years, this was the only time we actually did a ‘trade’ – taking a cat and adopting out a cat to the same person. In this case, it was the right thing to do, and just goes to show you, nothing about Rescue is black and white.)
