This morning I had to take my almost 10 year old cat to a shelter. When we first got him, he was the most adorable 6 week old kitten. My husband (then boyfriend) thought that if he got me a cat, I would be more concerned with the cat than his whereabouts in the wee hours of the morning. Yep… he got me the cat to distract me from the fact that he was staying out until 3am drinking and flirting with girls every night. I think his exact words were, “The cat will keep you company when I’m not home at night.”

Anyway: the cat adjusted well when we added another cat to the mix, and even did well when we got the dog. But having a baby was a whole other story. It’s been almost 3 years since my daughter was born and he still has not adjusted. He pees on all of her things. He attacks anyone who walks into my house. He just never could accept that my daughter is a part of our family now.

I’ve tried for over a year to get him adopted, but he’s so mean that no one would take him. I got our other cat adopted (she also didn’t adjust to a baby well). So today, I had to sign over my rights as his owner. It was so hard. I want to say it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, that was my immediate thought, but that’s not true – trauma work is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And while signing over my rights to a pet I’ve had for almost 10 years is heartbreaking, and I cried the entire time, it wasn’t as hard as trauma work. Hopefully someone will adopt him. I know that I gave him the best possible life that I could during the last 10 years. 💔😭

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