I’m sharing something sad today.

And I contemplated not saying anything about it at all because deep down it still really hurts.

And I really don’t know if I can take the judgement or the comments.

But holding it inside is making me a little crazy.

Remember Webster?

Webster is a troubled little kitty.

He got out just before our wedding and was missing for days.  I left for my honeymoon not knowing if my cat was alive.

When my parents finally found him, he had been traumatized.

The vet said he had PTSD and prescribed prozac.  I’m not kidding. 

He was peeing all over my floor.

We tried calming collars, plug ins, attracting litter, safe rooms, mult. litter boxes, etc.

And then it all just got to be too much.

So we got him his own little apartment.

He did great in the cage for about a month.

And then he started peeing all over that too.  And he cried and cried and cried.

In turn, I cried and cried and cried.

We tested the cage out for 9 months.

We were both miserable.

Last Friday, I drove to Raleigh.

And I gave Webster a new home.

My heart is broken; but is for the best all around.

Webster will finally be happy.

And even though I miss him so much, it’s for the best here, too.

I really can’t handle any of the backlash for this right now.  I, of all people, completely understand how pets are members of the family and that we make lifetime commitments to them.  But sometimes the only real answer to making them happy is understanding that we can’t provide them what they need.  I gave Webster all that I had.  I exhausted all of my resources over the last 3 years, and it was time I understood that he couldn’t be truly happy in my home.  Webster was my little boy, and giving him up has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done.  It’s been a week and I still want to vomit when I think about it.  I hope you all can understand.