Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Pain

I was just trying to play the piano, but Abbey (the cat) decided that either she didn't want to hear it, or she just wanted to be real close to me while I played. Still not sure which one, but she was all over me: on my lap, the keyboard, and sitting on my shoulder. Yes, like a parrot.

Abbey's going to have a big day tomorrow. As far as I know, she doesn't know yet. She's going to be losing her front claws. Simple procedure? Sure, for some. Not for me though. I hate this. I've put it off, because I don't want to put her through it. It's not a simple procedure; not even close. I'll spare the graphic details of what the equivalent would be for humans.

The weird and confusing thing about it? Life will be better for Abbey. 

You see, Abbey was adopted by Sarah and me recently, from a kill shelter. Yes, a kill shelter. Usually you just hear the term no-kill shelter, but think about what the opposite must be. Our love for animals, and that picture we saw on the cover of the newspaper at Cracker Barrel, took us to this shelter one Saturday morning.

The lady immediately took us to Abbey (her name was Pumpkin at the time). We went with Abbey into the little room where we help decide futures. Just as we were about to say no, Abbey literally laid down on the clipboard in my lap and started batting at the pen I was holding. Abbey went home with us.

As much as I hate to say it, Abbey losing her claws will help her keep the nice, warm home she has. It really doesn't seem fair that this is how life works; but it is how life works.

No one said it would make sense, be fun or be fair. It's none of these. And I'm glad. We wouldn't recognize the good, if it was all good.

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