Giving Up Kitty

The house is in boxes. Stacks of tubs loom ominously around the bed. Plastic grocery bags of unwanted clothes sprinkle the carpet like some sort of futuristic fungus. We're nearly packed and ready to move to our new, bland, modern apartment. Only thing is someone isn't going with us. It's not like this is the first time we've pawned the cat off on relatives. Shaquan stayed behind when we moved to Japan. The weeks of quarantine and navigating an already difficult rental system made a stay with mom and dad seem the rational and responsible thing to do.

Even though we struggled for over a year, before the baby was even in the picture, to find a larger apartment no one wanted to rent to a cat. Those that did came with exorbitant non-refundable deposits and already smelled of cat pee. With the added pressure of finding spacke for baby, the pet issue simply had to be dropped. But it's more than the apartment battle. I feel like I'm giving up one child for another. Yes, it's just a cat. It's not even my cat. My brother pawned the cat off on me. But the day Shaquan arrived I was so happy to get the cat I'd begged for years before. DH was pleased with our new family status even though to this day Shaquan resents him. Now that our little surrogate child is being handed off to make way for the real baby, I feel like a horrible person. Imagine the scandal if Angelina-Joli left her adopted children curbside the day her own child was born. But Shaquan, though cuter than any infant, is "just a cat".

I can remind myself that while Shaquan enjoys special privileges in our home, like sleeping under the covers with us and unlimited access to midday nap partners and warm laps, she was happy living with my parents as well. While my mother has always bemoaned the extra responsibility of a cat, secretly she likes the company. My father is rather smitten as well. She really is a lovely cat.

"This isn't just about us" is my new mantra for guilt ridden moments. I rationalize the need for a little distance. Shaquan hates children with a passion. She's also vindictive. DH can tell all sorts of horror stories of the revenge she sought after my early departure for Japan. One particularly colorful story involves waking up next to our precious kitty taking a dump on his pillow. Shaquan derives a kind of perverse pleasure from snuggling on my bulging belly. She prods my belly inquisitively, then lazily position herself atop my baby bump puring with satisfactions as baby Olive kicks back vigorously. It's as if she's rehearsing for the baby smothering. Altogether disturbing if you ask me- although not as bad as finding your baby covered in cat poo in the morning.

Just one week of kitty time left. Only 18 weeks of baby belly more. While I know my mind will be on anything but the cat once baby Olive arrives those 17 weeks will be lonely ones. I don't make it out much these days since going to bars just isn't much fun when you can't drink. My friends are all single and slightly put off by my willingness to reproduce, and DH is very busy being a bread winner these days. Shaquan was the only one eager to lay about all day while snacking on dairy products. I'm gonna miss my kitty, but I have no one to blame but myself.