Believe it or not, it remains the biggest challenge in my life. No kidding. After two years of unemployment, well, I’m not real interested in most forms of employment, so that’s not a challenge, at all, but the money thing is an issue, of course, so I have to sell the house and pull the equity I’ve got in it out, and I’ve got a fair amount, so money is not a challenge just yet.
Bubba is a challenge. He was a challenge when I came this direction, but one easily overcome. All I had to do was fly cross country with him round trip, well, one way for him, round trip for me, and then I had to drive one way afterwards on my own. So it cost a few hundred bucks and a few days, no biggie.
Now is different. There is no home for us to go to, and the idea of living in a van or RV with him is just really, really tough. Quite the challenge indeed.
We’ve discussed it at length. Well, actually I’ve thought about it at length, I’ve talked out loud to him a few times about it, but he doesn’t really get English, so thinking about it is just as effective, because he knows, clearly, that something is up.
Back when the challenge was how the heck to get him to New Hampshire, my wise elder’s response was “He’s a f**king cat.” For her, euthanasia was not an unreasonable option. For me, it was an option, but an unreasonable one.
Well, perhaps reasonable enough, but heartless. I love the dude.
Leaving men is easy. Well, it’s not easy, but it’s not all that hard, either, even leaving men that one loves. They speak English. One can explain, rationalize, even put a whole lot of heart into it. People are easy that way. Euthanasia is not an option, but then, leaving them on their own is, and they aren’t likely to succumb to a heinous and hungry or fear filled end.
He’s old, fourteen, and I don’t know how many that is in cat years, but it’s old, and fact of the matter is I have a feline companion whom I’ve had his whole life and that has been fourteen years worth. He's still healthy. To make matters worse, my friend’s mother, a woman who lost her first born child senselessly, who bears that child’s face in ink on her arm, told me in no uncertain terms that I could not possibly consider abandoning my baby, which my aunt refers to as a f**king cat.
My friend, the one with the mother, is working hard to find a home for him. He considers him a f**king cat, too, told me so more than once. Neither he nor my aunt are particularly fond of those of the feline persuasion.
I suppose I should put an ad on Craig’s list or something, help my friend help me find a home for Bubba. That or start training him to be a road cat.