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Two seems to be the reoccurring number in my life at the moment.
I made two big life choices of quitting my job and getting my drivers license. They both occurred within a couple of days of each other.
Also, as you are aware, for two months I've nursed a litter of kittens from helpless babies to over confident kittens.
Two of them went home two days ago with two wonderful girls. I'm left with the last two, Nubé and Pageant, as well as two opposite emotions about the other two's, Napoleon and Persephone's, departure.
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As I got ready for adopting them out, I thought of when Emily handed Finn over to me. It was quite a long and pretty painful process. She's such a sweet person and it was hurting her to adopt Finn out when she loved him so much. I guess in some way I thought that maybe it would be similar to some extent, but being as I'm the type of person who rarely showcases her true emotions, I didn't think it could be anywhere near the level of when I adopted Finn. But perhaps it was so vastly different that I got emotionally thrown for a loop.
Much like the last time, the two sisters came to my house, excited about greeting their new companions and actually being able to bring them home. Their mother was with them and she was an absolute pleasure to meet. Just as wonderful as her daughters, they all had me smiling and laughing with them. The adopting out was quick. There was no money involved, no paperwork, no receipt or exchange, I simply handed them the kittens and they left. We chatted for a little bit before they left, but it wasn't long and I was sure they were eager to get home to spend time with their long-awaited kittens.
After they got in to the car and left, I felt instantaneously relieved and detached. It's only two kittens off my shoulders and I still have two more, but it felt good to know that Napoleon and Persephone were going to such a fantastic family. And as anyone would surmise, handling two kittens would be much easier than four. Still, somehow, another part of me felt nothing towards the issue and it was odd.
My brother ended up calling me a few minutes after, asking me how it felt to have two kittens off my hands. And my answer was mixed. I knew it would be, and, as I clearly stated in the last entry, I knew I would be sad to see them go. But a part of me must have been holding out that I wouldn't feel much emotion towards the situation because I only started getting teary-eyed over the phone. I didn't feel an ounce of sadness watching them leave, only once they were gone.
Still, I was refusing to openly cry about it because when I think about it, what is there to cry about? Yes, I've raised these kittens as if I were their mother cat, but they're alive and healthy. Plus, I don't want to keep them. I have two (there's that number again) amazing animals that I love very much and would do anything to hold on to. Logically speaking, I'm happy with just that. Emotionally speaking, it's like my mind is pounding on the logical part of my brain and shouting that I need to keep them all.
I've seen the ugly side of taking care of a kitten when it's too young to be taken from it's mother and I've felt the horrible fear that one might die on my hands. They've gone to the vet two times within my care (not counting anymore visits that I might have to make with the last two), only to be given barely enough information to take care of them. Most of the information to care for these kittens I had to look up online. And that has to be the worst place to look up info because I only found stories about how people had tried their best and the litter still ended up dead. On the second vet stop, when I mentioned what I found, they agreed and said that those people were right. They were genuinely surprised and equally delighted to see me come back to the vet with four seven week old kittens that were in prime health aside for a bacteria issue.
Would I ever do this again? If I can help it: heeeeeell no. It's an emotional roller-coaster that doesn't slow at the end of the ride. Instead of gradually slowing and coming to a complete halt, it flies off the tracks and skids miles across bumpy grounds before your left to spew what feels like your internal organs all over the victim nearest you. Basically, when it ends, it doesn't end.
To prove that theory, I lost my hold on the tears that very next day. By next day, I mean around twelve midnight. So technically the next day, but it still felt like the same day in my mind. With all the things running through my mind, I thought I would try to type the entry while it was all fresh in my mind, but looking at the pictures and running through all that I've done since the last post was only making me feel more and more detached. I didn't intentionally force myself to feel that way, but my emotions have a weird way of coping due to my dysfunctional existence (I'm insane with half a brain, what can you do?). Being so out of it, I had forgotten to put Finn in his crate for bed like I normally do so he was aimlessly wandering the pathway from my room back to where I was sitting. I want to say he did it more than once, yet I can't say for certain because I finally came around by the time he had probably already made his third lap.
Glancing away from the computer screen, I patted him and was readying to pet him more when he walked away, heading back toward my room. Concerned that he was upset because he was exhausted and needed sleep (as he will only just barely sleep outside of the crate), I got up to follow him with the intention of putting him to bed.
When I got in to my room though, I stopped heading towards the crate. I looked at him, sitting patiently on my floor, sat on my bed and invited him up with a pat on the mattress. Of course he took to it instantly, he loves it up there. I'll occasionally catch him sneaking up there when he didn't get permission (essentially when I'm not around). I was going to try to get him in to playing mode (maybe wear him out more before I really put him to bed), but instead I hugged him...and started bawling. Really, it was a pathetic sight that I'm grateful no one else was awake to hear or see. Dribbling like a creek while hugging my dog, I imagine the only thought he could conjure was "What just happened here?".
After a while I calmed down, but it took its sweet old time. And luckily Finn was there to just let me look ridiculous and hug him the entire time. Where was Artemis during this whole commotion? In the laundry basket...sleeping. Haha, got to love my kids.
The outburst came as a surprise to me at the moment, but it had been building up and every time I was asked if I was 'okay', my reluctance to answer only made it worse. As it stands, I like denying my feelings and I'm bound to do it again when the time comes to give away the last two kittens. They will be leaving though. Logically, I know it's best for them and me.
Obviously, I still have a long way ahead of me before I can truly relax. Only two kittens are gone.
As far as the other two accomplishments go, I can say Finn will be happy about one. When I gain enough confidence to actually drive him to places. It was equally terrifying and easy passing the driver's test, being twenty-two, almost twenty-three years old. I drove on my own afterwards, but I can't be honest in saying that I enjoy it or am even comfortable with it. I suppose that comes with more practice and time. As for my job, it's as simple as: I quit.
At the beginning of this year, while having thoughts of quitting, I stumbled across something that said "you have no obligations to your first job, so if you are unhappy, don't feel bad about leaving. Just leave. Never feel bad about pulling away from something that doesn't make you happy." And my work had ceased to make me happy as of two years ago. I'd been holding on this whole time because of the people I worked with (whom were leaving themselves) and because I was waiting for my brother to be ready to leave. But lets face it, once my brother left, I left and, frankly, (in a different manner of speaking) so did the people. The co-workers that I've met through my first job (of five years), have been awesome. I will say, it was fun working with them too. Those few that have kept in touch and encouraged me are still in contact with me and I couldn't be more grateful. The rest were never there to begin with. And that's fine, in fact, I don't mind it at all. On the contrary, I'm the happiest I have been in two years.
Does it make me sad on some level? Maybe. But not because I left. More because I gave a piece of myself to people who really didn't care. What can I say though? You live and you learn.
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Much like the last time, the two sisters came to my house, excited about greeting their new companions and actually being able to bring them home. Their mother was with them and she was an absolute pleasure to meet. Just as wonderful as her daughters, they all had me smiling and laughing with them. The adopting out was quick. There was no money involved, no paperwork, no receipt or exchange, I simply handed them the kittens and they left. We chatted for a little bit before they left, but it wasn't long and I was sure they were eager to get home to spend time with their long-awaited kittens.
After they got in to the car and left, I felt instantaneously relieved and detached. It's only two kittens off my shoulders and I still have two more, but it felt good to know that Napoleon and Persephone were going to such a fantastic family. And as anyone would surmise, handling two kittens would be much easier than four. Still, somehow, another part of me felt nothing towards the issue and it was odd.
Still, I was refusing to openly cry about it because when I think about it, what is there to cry about? Yes, I've raised these kittens as if I were their mother cat, but they're alive and healthy. Plus, I don't want to keep them. I have two (there's that number again) amazing animals that I love very much and would do anything to hold on to. Logically speaking, I'm happy with just that. Emotionally speaking, it's like my mind is pounding on the logical part of my brain and shouting that I need to keep them all.
I've seen the ugly side of taking care of a kitten when it's too young to be taken from it's mother and I've felt the horrible fear that one might die on my hands. They've gone to the vet two times within my care (not counting anymore visits that I might have to make with the last two), only to be given barely enough information to take care of them. Most of the information to care for these kittens I had to look up online. And that has to be the worst place to look up info because I only found stories about how people had tried their best and the litter still ended up dead. On the second vet stop, when I mentioned what I found, they agreed and said that those people were right. They were genuinely surprised and equally delighted to see me come back to the vet with four seven week old kittens that were in prime health aside for a bacteria issue.
Would I ever do this again? If I can help it: heeeeeell no. It's an emotional roller-coaster that doesn't slow at the end of the ride. Instead of gradually slowing and coming to a complete halt, it flies off the tracks and skids miles across bumpy grounds before your left to spew what feels like your internal organs all over the victim nearest you. Basically, when it ends, it doesn't end.
To prove that theory, I lost my hold on the tears that very next day. By next day, I mean around twelve midnight. So technically the next day, but it still felt like the same day in my mind. With all the things running through my mind, I thought I would try to type the entry while it was all fresh in my mind, but looking at the pictures and running through all that I've done since the last post was only making me feel more and more detached. I didn't intentionally force myself to feel that way, but my emotions have a weird way of coping due to my dysfunctional existence (I'm insane with half a brain, what can you do?). Being so out of it, I had forgotten to put Finn in his crate for bed like I normally do so he was aimlessly wandering the pathway from my room back to where I was sitting. I want to say he did it more than once, yet I can't say for certain because I finally came around by the time he had probably already made his third lap.
Glancing away from the computer screen, I patted him and was readying to pet him more when he walked away, heading back toward my room. Concerned that he was upset because he was exhausted and needed sleep (as he will only just barely sleep outside of the crate), I got up to follow him with the intention of putting him to bed.
When I got in to my room though, I stopped heading towards the crate. I looked at him, sitting patiently on my floor, sat on my bed and invited him up with a pat on the mattress. Of course he took to it instantly, he loves it up there. I'll occasionally catch him sneaking up there when he didn't get permission (essentially when I'm not around). I was going to try to get him in to playing mode (maybe wear him out more before I really put him to bed), but instead I hugged him...and started bawling. Really, it was a pathetic sight that I'm grateful no one else was awake to hear or see. Dribbling like a creek while hugging my dog, I imagine the only thought he could conjure was "What just happened here?".
(experimenting with drawings/pictures etc. Cut me some slack for the crudeness)
After a while I calmed down, but it took its sweet old time. And luckily Finn was there to just let me look ridiculous and hug him the entire time. Where was Artemis during this whole commotion? In the laundry basket...sleeping. Haha, got to love my kids.
The outburst came as a surprise to me at the moment, but it had been building up and every time I was asked if I was 'okay', my reluctance to answer only made it worse. As it stands, I like denying my feelings and I'm bound to do it again when the time comes to give away the last two kittens. They will be leaving though. Logically, I know it's best for them and me.
Obviously, I still have a long way ahead of me before I can truly relax. Only two kittens are gone.
As far as the other two accomplishments go, I can say Finn will be happy about one. When I gain enough confidence to actually drive him to places. It was equally terrifying and easy passing the driver's test, being twenty-two, almost twenty-three years old. I drove on my own afterwards, but I can't be honest in saying that I enjoy it or am even comfortable with it. I suppose that comes with more practice and time. As for my job, it's as simple as: I quit.
At the beginning of this year, while having thoughts of quitting, I stumbled across something that said "you have no obligations to your first job, so if you are unhappy, don't feel bad about leaving. Just leave. Never feel bad about pulling away from something that doesn't make you happy." And my work had ceased to make me happy as of two years ago. I'd been holding on this whole time because of the people I worked with (whom were leaving themselves) and because I was waiting for my brother to be ready to leave. But lets face it, once my brother left, I left and, frankly, (in a different manner of speaking) so did the people. The co-workers that I've met through my first job (of five years), have been awesome. I will say, it was fun working with them too. Those few that have kept in touch and encouraged me are still in contact with me and I couldn't be more grateful. The rest were never there to begin with. And that's fine, in fact, I don't mind it at all. On the contrary, I'm the happiest I have been in two years.
Does it make me sad on some level? Maybe. But not because I left. More because I gave a piece of myself to people who really didn't care. What can I say though? You live and you learn.
Small update though: one of the sisters that adopted the kittens answered my text yesterday. I felt a little ridiculous asking so soon how Napoleon and Persephone have acclimated to their new environment (especially given it has only been one day), but she's such a sweetheart and she told me that I wasn't being nosy or overbearing like I imagined I was. She said that they're my babies too and that they are doing exceptionally well.
Both of them have exceeded all expectations that anyone previously had and have shown what great (if not just a bit goofy) kittens that they are. Last I heard, their mom has fallen head over heels for them and is even considering making them mostly indoor cats.
I can still admit to sadness at their absence (ask me in person and I'll deny it like a sinner in church), but I couldn't be happier with the turn out.
I only hope that Nubé and Pageant will be going to equally amazing homes.
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I only hope that Nubé and Pageant will be going to equally amazing homes.
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