Friday, April 27, 2012

The Most Difficult Story to Tell

Dear Loyal Readers,

Ugh! I have been dreading writing this letter and, as I type, I am crying so hard I can barely breathe.

In December, I entered rehab for alcoholism. The difficulty that led to the decision to get help was very difficult to digest. My life was out of control; I needed to get it back.

When I left, my parents took Kukka-Maria and Brach. They tried to find someone who could take care of them until April, when I returned. While they tried so hard, they were unable to find anyone who was in a position to care for them. It was a difficult decision for them, but they took them to a no-kill shelter that placed them up for adoption.

When they told me, I broke down. I had both of them since they were kittens. The thought of living without them was unbearable. Through my struggle with alcohol, my family and friends created distance. Kukka and Brach never did. At times, it seemed as though they were my only friends. Their unconditional love was immeasurable.

I am hyperventilating. Writing this is harder than I imagined, as I know you love them, as well.

I understood I was not in a position to care for them. Through my addiction, I had become a monster that valued alcohol over anything else.

About 3 weeks ago, I was shopping and walked by a pet store who was hosting a cat adoption event. I walked past, resisting the urge to go in. I returned, realizing that seeing cats would be a huge part of my recovery. I noticed there were more adult cats than kittens. As I walked past the cages, I began to cry. The woman hosting the event approached me, asking what was wrong. I explained the story and my grief. I told her how they are 12 and 11 years old and how I was worried they wouldn't be adopted at that age, since they were no longer cute, fluffy, tiny kittens.

Another woman, who also worked for the adoption agency, came over and said, "I was eavesdropping and heard your story. Were your cats dark gray/black striped with white and tan colored with white?" I  told her they were and she went on to tell me she fostered Kukka and Brach. They were adopted--together--by a family with kids.

I cried even harder. My heart believed her, but my head thought she was just telling me this to calm me down and send me away at peace. I thought about it after leaving the store and realized I hadn't told her what my cats looked like. SHE told ME.

I choose to believe her story. It is my hope they are bringing the new family joy. If they love their new family half how they loved me, that family is more fortunate then they can imagine.

Here is what I will miss the most about Exiled Empress Kukka-Maria:
  • Her meow, pleading for treats, sounded like "Mom? Mom? Mom?"
  • She would sleep in my "kneepits" at night and how, when wanting to turn over, I would contort my body so not to wake her.
  • She would subtly bully Brach when he was sleeping. She would bathe his ears and face, his eyes, closing with ecstasy, then she would bite the back of his neck until he moved. She would then look at me while sinking down for a his warm sleeping spot.
  • Her pretty pink nose and paw-pads.

Here is what I will miss most about Brach O'Lee:

  • His saggy belly would swing to and fro while running toward the kitchen for treats.
  • He was obsessed with eating plants and flowers...whether alive or silk.
  • He would play fetch with a hair band. I would sit on my bed and toss it into the hallway. He would scramble out the door, grab it, flop on his side while kicking at it with his hind legs, and then bring it back for a second round.
  • His soft white belly and caramel-colored eyes.

Please read the various stories in the archive. I will post links to some of my favorites in the next couple of days. Do you have a favorite?

Thank you for all the years of support and admiration for two beautiful beings I was so fortunate to share with you.

If only they knew all the crazy stories I wrote in their names...

With tears and appreciation,
Courtney Macha, The Agent