4:59 pm York, Maine
Monica scooped Joey and Willy up around 3 pm yesterday. She was cheerful and playful with the boys, but her loud, high voice scared them both into hiding. Once she got her hands on Joey, I could see her inspecting him, his wound, even plucking a small bit of goo out of the corner of his eye. It made me tense. I felt judged. I always wonder what she really thinks of me, if I’m being placated. I should just be up front with her and ask her, but I’m too much of a ninny to try just now.
We talked about donations. I was able to pull in a few, that I know of, though more may have come in that I’m unaware of just now. Monica assured me I didn’t have to donate anything, that I do so much already, but it’s not enough. I don’t think I could ever rescue enough animals to make myself feel like I accomplished anything.
I told Monica about my Will and how I’ve bequeathed a large percent of my estate to The Animal Center. I got choked up. Thinking that I could do more for them dead, than I could, alive. I also knew that someday that money would continue my legacy of compassion to all animals. It felt good to know I had something worth making a difference. Monica grabbed me and held me as we both cried.
I often think she considers me to be naïve about animal rescue and that I’m just a goofball. Maybe now she knows how much I do care and how much it means to me, yet ultimately, I don’t care what she thinks, as long as she keeps doing everything she can to make a difference in helpless animal’s lives.
I didn’t have a big dramatic, touching farewell with the kittens. I helped Monica load them into their carrier and bid them good-bye. I asked Monica to try to keep them together, at least until Joey was well enough to be adopted, but in this “business” if you get a potential adopter, they aren’t apt to wait a week or two to get a kitten. If they have to wait, they just move on and adopt from somewhere else. No matter how close Joey and Willy had become, their fate would most likely be, that they would be placed separately.
I hate it.
The next morning, I got an email from Monica. Willy was adopted. I was on the fence about it, happy Willy has a good home, but really sad that Joey is without a friend and Willy, too. Willy was learning how to play and interact with another cat, he was also coming out of his shell. I wonder how he’ll do now that he’s on his own and in a family with a MAN. Men terrify him! I also don’t think he was ready to be adopted. He’s still too shy, but…it’s not my place, so I just shut up and hope for the best.
I’m sitting on the deck of Room 10, with a Mac Powerbook in my lap, at the Dockside (we call it, The Dark Side..heh heh), in York, Maine. It’s perfect weather. Not a cloud in the azure sky. A light breeze rustles the turning leaves. It’s the first day of autumn, yet the temperature is still in the 70’s. The horizon perfectly slices the sky, pale blue above and royal blue below. A few small pleasure boats skim along the ocean’s surface. The tide is returning to the small harbor. I can see the water moving towards us from the ocean at a fast pace. Sam is typing away on his MacBook. We are both annoying computer geeks. To make it worse, Sam’s reading a book on Flash animation…a technical book…and we’re on VACATION! A word that is so rarely used, I can barely form my mouth properly to sound out the letters. Cormorants and ducks fly past or take aim for the water to catch a bite to eat. A gull flies overhead. I fear it will crap on me. Ahh..safe. This time.
I’m glad Joey doesn’t know this is his last day with a bum leg. I’m glad he doesn’t know what awaits him tomorrow. I close my eyes and see his charming face and remember the light thump his bent paw made on the floor when he’s jump off the bed to run after a toy. Tomorrow I’ll know if he made it through surgery. Maybe then this will feel like a real vacation?