My husband and children are top-notch procrastinators. I love them dearly, but let’s just say it is a constant struggle for me to understand why you don’t do today what you could put off til tomorrow. Still, even my beloved dawdlers were caught off guard when the e-mail arrived.
8 years ago, we made the painful, gut-wrenching decision to return our beloved cat, Finn, from whence he came. Finn was part of our family for 4 years, during which he and out other cat, Patch, lived in perfect harmony. But something went horribly wrong: they started to fight. Suddenly, the origin of the word “catfight” becomes clear. Blood curdling screams, claws out, and lots of thrashing. After much “training” (as if one could ever train a cat) to “be nice to each other”, I made the impossible decision to return Finn to Feline Rescue. A feline version of “Sophie’s Choice”, as it were. Patch had lived at our house the longest, so he got to stay.
Can you imagine? The only thing harder to do would be to return a dog, because he would follow you to the door and give you those sad puppy eyes. Cats do nothing of the sort. They do not reveal their feelings. In fact, one could wonder if they even have feelings.
I dropped Finn off with a long list of instructions for the future adopters – he likes this, hates that, kind of stuff. And a plea: please e-mail or write a letter to us and let us know that Finn is adopted and safe and very well loved.
Nothing.
For 8 years.
Then, suddenly I got a long friendly e-mail from Finn’s “new” owners. It begins: “This message is long overdue. I should have written eight years ago when we adopted our cat – your former cat – from Feline Rescue. I’ve thought of it so many times since that day, but something always got in my way. No more! Today is the day.” I get it, but, 8 years? I told my children about the e-mail. Their reactions were identical. “8 years? Why bother?” For such master procrastinators, they certainly were quick to condemn one of their own.
Still, the email was long and full of love and adoration for “Carrots” (really? Turns out they had a nephew named Finn, so they couldn’t keep that name). Emily thanked me for giving them Finn (no, I will not call him “Carrots”) and assured me we did the right thing in surrendering him, and that they love Finn as much as I did. It made me cry.
So, this week’s joy was news of a beloved cat. He is happy and healthy and loved.
Better late than never.