I had a psychotic cat named Nimbus for something like seven years. I adopted him from a horrible animal control shelter when he was a kitten. He was violent and did not tolerate other cats (although he appeared somewhat fascinated by dogs). When I married KE he tried valiantly for over a year to live with the horrible allergies that Nimbus produced in him. He tried to make friends and adjust to the cat's wild spells. Our son was born and neither of us fully trusted Nimbus with him. The cat was too violent and too unpredictable--biting and clawing me was one thing, biting and clawing an infant quite another. Finally, we came to the realization that Nimbus was making our lives miserable. We took him to a no-kill shelter and hoped for the best. The story doesn't have a happy ending. I never tried to find out what happened to him. I just sent him out there into the universe. Certain people around me were shocked. My getting rid of Nimbus was an affront and a betrayal of their value system.
My dirty little secret is that life without a pet is exponentially better. I'm relieved not to have another life dependent upon me. I'm relieved that we can travel without significant logistical cat-care planning. I'm relieved not to have the pet chores and extra costs. My child, my spouse, and my job take almost everything out of me. I haven't got anything left for the needs of a pet.
On a discussion board I frequent the topic of how evil people who give up their pets are occasionally resurfaces. It did again this week, and prompted a rush of guilt. I know that pets are supposed to be a lifetime commitment. But so are marriages, parenting, friendships, all sorts of things that change over time. I couldn't live up to that commitment with Nimbus. I failed him. It was a sacrifice I chose to make for my new life as a spouse and parent.
One thing that haunts me: when I moved in with KE he knew I loved cats, and as a kind of odd symbolic gesture he took in a stray kitten. Since she was a short hair and lived mostly outside, he didn't have as much of an allergic reaction to her. We had her spayed and then arranged that the people who rented our house would take care of her. Confession: I desperately hope that they take her with them when we move back. I don't want her. I would only resent her. I had to give up a cat I truly loved, and I just don't want the hassle of caring for a cat with whom I have no relationship. If I can't have Nimbus I don't want any pets at all. I mentioned this to KE and he just thinks its spiteful. It probably is.
