(And I apologize in advance to the dear readers who miss my posts that detail "wild nights out," especially the "Friends Only" ones. I have to pretend I'm a responsible adult these days... but I'm sure I'll have fun stuff to report on, especially once my Darlin' Chicago Hottie arrives...)
I had forgotten to mention that I spoke with the woman, S, who had been taking care of Mia before giving her to me. I was supposed to call her Sunday night, but I was so exhausted from all the activity, as was little Mia. So I opted to call her Monday. The purpose of the call was to merely let her know how Mia was doing.
"Yes," a woman replied on the other end of the phone.
"It's Liz," I said. "How are you?"
"Oh!" She exclaimed. "Joe said you probably wouldn't bother calling us, since you were supposed to call last night." Joe was her husband.
That startled me a bit. "Well, I was pretty exhausted as was--," I paused a second because I realized that she still thought the cat's name was Raisin, "the kitten," I finished.
"Oh," she said. But I could tell from the tone of her voice that she probably felt this was a poor reason not to call. "How is she?"
"She's doing very well," I answered. "She's got a bit of a cold and it looks like her conjunctivitis came back a little, so I've been giving her the drops again. But she's just a little ball of energy! I actually decided to change her name to Mia..." I proceeded to explain about her kitty soccer skills.
Another pause. I could definitely tell she did not approve. "So, how was she when you brought her home that night? Did she cry a lot?"
"No, not at all," I said. "We played a lot and I introduced her to my friend's cats. Then we both pretty much konked out."
"She didn't cry at all?" she asked, surprised.
Geez, lady! "No," I said. "She was fine. We've been having fun." What I really felt like saying was that I've been feeding her proper, nutritious kitten food that doesn't make her fart up a storm, which probably meant she had gas or heartburn resulting from eating adult generic-crap-cat food. Not to mention I spoil her by letting her sleep next to me in a queen-sized Crate and Barrel "Quadrant" bed that holds an excellent Sealy Posturpedic mattress that's so comfortable, it's hard to get out of bed in the morning. In addition to that, she's got a clean 2 story house to run wild in with lots of toys, her very own litter box, and an owner who treats her like she's her child.
I know that's mean, but honestly. The rest of the conversation was pretty strained. If they didn't really want to give up the cat, they shouldn't have. Obviously as much as they adored her, their home wasn't really the proper environment for a kitten. They had a baby that was too rough with Mia and Mia was too rough with her. Their own cat wouldn't come in and their German Shephard had to be watched to ensure she didn't accidentally hurt Mia. Plus S is a smoker. Bad for her kids and bad for pets.
Mia now lives with an anal smoke-free Personal Trainer who wouldn't put her at risk for kitty lung cancer. : )
Anyway, I told S I'd bring Mia by for a visit this weekend. She said she was glad to know that Mia was in a home where she was getting a lot of love. But I could tell by her voice that she probably regretted giving her away.
I felt kinda bad by the end of the conversation because I know I'd regret giving up Mia, too. But I'm already attached to Mia and quite emotionally invested in her. She really is my "baby."
Then a thought occured to me... if I'm feeling this way over a kitten-- protective and possessive, I wondered what "real Mom's" who regret giving up their own children must go through when they realize they'd made a mistake...
Well, I truly believe Mia and I are meant to be in each other's lives. So I'll share her. I don't even say I "own" her. I don't believe you can really own a living creature. If Mia indicated she was miserable with me, I wouldn't make her stay. I'd find her a better home.
But, like Monica, Mia's in my life for a reason. She's "mine." : ) (And not in the property sense of the word...)