They took the cat today. They were gentle - it went with as little trauma as it could have done.
They think she's feral. As soon as she was in the box she started screaming and fighting, going wild. It was terrible to listen to her crying, but it had to be done.
"You already have two cats." I know, I know. But I want a third. Not just any cat. Her.
"You're going to have a baby." Yes. I know. It's insane. But it could probably be done.
"She will go to a good home somewhere." I know. But I love her. If she doesn't belong to anybody, I'd like her back, if I could. Because in the mornings she wakes me with purring. Because she rests her face on my shoulder when she is sleeping. Because each night she curls herself into the crook of my back or my arms.
"It would be so much work." Yes. But love is always a lot of work.
This is how love has always worked for me. In the unlooked for thing I did not invite, did not know I wanted until it came.