Why They Go

A number of readers have commented on my blog, in connection with Hector’s adoption, that they don’t think they could foster, as it would be too difficult to give a cat up to someone else. I can certainly understand those feelings.

I have not formed the same sorts of bonds with all the cats I have fostered. Of those recently, Hector has been a tough one to let go, because, as I wrote in my last entry, I didn’t really think I would ever have to. As well, he had become more affectionate with me, lying under my desk by my feet when I worked at the computer, for an example. Horace, on the other hand, I liked tremendously, and would have had no problem keeping. Yet, though we were good friends, we didn’t have the same connection that Hec and I did. As well, I knew without a doubt how easily Ivory would settle into his new home. That was not the case with Hector. It was only with the news that he and his new roommate had become playmates as well that my mind was set at ease.

Similarly, though I have great fondness for Zofia, my parting with her would not be like letting Hector go; I know little Miss Zed would adapt well and be her happy, carefree self within a short time in a new home.

Reluctance to let them go is determined as much by how well I think they will prosper – and how soon – in a new world, as by how I will feel about their absence. I must be confident that they would be at least as content as they are with me – and that they would be understood, in the way they need to be. The latter is one of the reasons why I adopted some of my foster-cats: Cammie, for instance.

But letting a foster-cat go to a loving and happy home does something else. It frees a spot for another cat who isn’t fortunate enough to be loved, or isn’t ready to move on as someone’s pet. This is always in the back of my mind: that I will have room for another. I never try to accelerate an adoption for this reason; the prospective home must be exactly right for the foster-cat, or else he stays with me. Nonetheless, when it works out, as in Hector’s case, and Horace’s, there is a double victory: a cat finds a family who will love him and whom he will love, and another cat can prepare that journey for himself.

It can be a jolt, letting them go. But I am not the best that most cats can have. That awaits them beyond the Cosy Apartment. If one remains with me, then I try to be all he needs. If one goes, then it is to a better family, a better home; I am certain of that – otherwise, it would not happen. But he goes, and another comes. It’s rarely easy; it’s sometimes nearly impossible. But it’s always good.