I Traded My Cats For a Puppy

We got JJ ten years ago, because a neighbor of a friend was getting a new boyfriend who didn’t like cats, and so JJ needed a new home.  Things were going well, except that my wife and I both worked in the city and were gone most of the day, and we felt that he was lonely and needed a friend.  Whether or not this was actually true, I do not know.  What I know is that instead of a friend, we brought into the house his mortal enemy and constant nemesis, Mousey.

Mousey was a kitten and just wanted to play, but JJ was having none of it.  They eventually came to a grudging, distanced dislike of each other, and when we moved to Baltimore they became outside cats and the distance grew.  JJ joined a local gang, and they would come to our house to harass Mousey.  She would try to come out the basement window, and they would all stand around and swat at her, not letting her out.  They were a tough bunch of cats, and they prowled the neighborhood each day, looking for trouble.

When we moved up to Vermont, JJ lost his muscle, and Mousey started to turn the tables.  She would attack JJ whenever he was trying to use the litter box, or whenever he was eating.  She was now significantly bigger than he was, so without his feline gang of ruffians, he was vulnerable.  He took up residence in the barn attached to our house, and spent most of his time there, while Mousey ruled the living quarters.  It wasn’t equitable, but it worked.  He got to chase mice, and she got to fight back against her childhood bully.

Then we moved to our current house, almost two and a half years ago.  One of the rules of the co-op is that cats cannot be outside kitties.  Our wild and wandering pets were suddenly confined to a small apartment with no chance of stepping outside and feeling the grass under their paws, so that they could eat it and chuck it up later on the carpet.  This turned out to be worse than we feared.   Mousey continued her attacks on JJ at the food bowl and the litter box, so he stopped using both of them.  She ate double portions and doubled in size, mostly moping around the house depressed, occasionally trying to escape out the front door.  JJ lost so much weight he looked like a skeleton, and he started peeing in various corners of the house, causing everything to smell terrible, and my wife’s stress level to double.  Luckily I have no sense of smell, but it was still not good.

We got a second litter box, and moved his food bowl, but it didn’t make a difference.  Mousey went around to every litter box and claimed them as her own, no matter how many we added, and there was no place safe for JJ to eat.  His weight continued to drop, while hers continued to balloon.  They were both miserable, and so were we.  It couldn’t go on.

Now, we had some options, none of which we loved, but we attempted to reach out to specific friends and family about finding a new home for at least one of them.  Somewhere they could be outside and happy, not near busy roads, and where we could come and visit them would be ideal.  No luck.  We posted a plea on Facebook.  No luck.  We considered a shelter, but couldn’t bring ourselves to do it.  So we just sat at home and stayed miserable.  And then my mother’s dog had puppies.

She wanted to get rid of the puppies, and many had found homes, but one in particular had become a family favorite and her kids wanted it to go to a house where they could visit.  And so a deal was struck.  My mother has several acres of land for kitties to play, not near a main road, and we will be able to visit all the time.  We have a small apartment, but I am home most of the time, and live right near paths, parks, and doggy play areas.  It is a perfect trade.  Except that I am very sad today.

In a few hours I will pack the kitties up, with their cat tower, their food, their litter box, their toys, and all other possessions, and take them across the lake to my mother’s house.  All traces of them will be gone from our house, except for the love in our hearts and, of course, the smell.  But we’re working on that.  I know that I will still see them, and that they will be happier, but knowing that they will not climb onto my face at night to cuddle/suffocate me is making me a little teary-eyed this morning.  I guess this is just a long way of saying goodbye to them, and that I will miss them.  The puppy is too young to move in yet, but in a few weeks we’ll bring it over, have it interviewed by the co-op (that is a thing), and start filling our home with leashes, crates, bones, and other doggish things.  It will be a transition.  I think, in the end, it will be better.  But today, as I say “see you later” to two family members, I am sad.