Monday, November 21, 2005

Scars

A week later they're beginning to heal.

We found a home for Batman. In the effort to relocate, finding a home for our two-year-old cat was a big concern. We didn't want to take him to the pound, that's just a delayed death sentence.

The spirit whispered to try the Harding's. After calling a couple other folks first, I followed the prompting and called the Hardings. Did they want our cat? Neutered, no front claws, but still a good mouser. They'd consider and call us back.

The Hardings have horse property and are cousins (of course).

After due deliberation they phoned to tell us the verdict. Plans were quickly made to affect the move.

Last Monday evening I loaded the truck with the cat pan (he hasn't used it for a year and a half), unused cat litter, food bowl, cans and large bag of cat food.

Minutes previously we had relaxed together on the couch, but I figure he knew something was up.

I gathered him into my arms and gave him a blessing before we started. I blessed him that he would quickly become comfortable in his new home, that he would love the people there. I began to cry as I blessed him that he would forget us. Hopefully, on the other side of the veil his memory will be restored.

She drove us around the block to get him a bit disoriented. His last ride in a vehicle had resulted in some painful and humiliating operations. He didn't like this ride.

When we arrived at the Hardings, I renewed my hold on him and opened the door. He sprang from my grasp and ran into their open garage.

We went to the front door and rang the bell. After greetings, I unloaded Batman's stuff and we talked a bit. The Bat had left the garage in the meantime. I figured he was on his way home.

To my surprise we found him in the horse yard. Meowing.

I hadn't fed him before we packed up, knowing that food might help get him calmed down. I took a can of cat food into the horse yard and lured him in. I grabbed him when he came to sniff. Picked him up and started for the house.

Stupidly, I kept the cat food in one hand, Batman in my right arm. As we got closer to the house, he began to struggle. I kept my grip tight, but lost it to his desperate wriggling after we went in the back door. He got my hand, wrist and side before he was off looking for a hidey hole.

Any move is a shock to a cat and it takes time for them to acclimate. Usually they head for a tight, dark spot to curl up in to get their bearings.

Batman headed for the computer room. He hid behind the printer. I prepared his dish with his dinner and took it in to him. We talked a bit and he had a little to eat. I put the dish on the floor, leaving him alone in the room.

We talked some more, had some pie and, eventually, we left.

The blessing was fulfilled. He hasn't been back.

We have kitten scratches on our couch, a few pictures, some itchy scars on my right hand and memories.

Our grandson had her take him around the neighborhood on a walk looking for the kitty last night. We're not the only ones who miss him.

Silly pets.

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