Adopting a cat...and then not adopting a cat

 Last fall, I started feeling like maybe I was ready to try an emotional support animal. I really struggle with anxiety, and I hoped it would help. I worked with my therapist for months to be ready. I spent that time searching shelters for cats that I'd be a good fit with. I spent over 8 months preparing.

Finally, I was ready. I had done the required work with my therapist to qualify for an ESA, and I finally found the perfect cat. I met him ahead of time at the shelter, and we clicked immediately. He was an orange and white boy. I'm so partial to orange cats!

I waited a couple more days to be absolutely sure, and then I went to adopt my cat. I named him Henry Pawsworth Longfellow, and he was absolutely perfect. He loved me from the beginning. He wanted to be with me at all times. His favorite place was on my lap. We spent hours cuddling and playing.

I didn't really notice that I wasn't feeling well until about a week in. I was achy, itchy, congested, and had a sore throat constantly. Not feeling well made my anxiety spike. I recognized the signs of an imminent downward spiral. That's happened before, and it's not good. Really not good.

I talked with my parents for awhile, and we realized that I am allergic to cats. I haven't had an indoor cat before, so I didn't know. I didn't know it was severe. My beloved Henry was making me so sick. My autoimmune medications suppress my immune system, so I can't fight things off. Taking allergy medications wasn't enough. In the end, I only had one choice. I had to take Henry back to the shelter. It broke my heart.

It's amazing how quickly one can become attached and how deep the hurt is when you have to make a choice like this. I know I did everything right, but it's still devastating to lose my sweet boy. If he'd been a jerk cat, it would have been different, but he was so very good. He was smart, lovey, funny, and so wonderful to have around. Losing him was one of the hardest things I've ever had to face.

Now I'm left feeling even more alone. I'm having to take all of his things out because the allergens are still there. The shelter will take his favorite things so that they can go with him to his new home, so that's good. I'm glad he'll have something familiar to go with him. But oh, how I wish he was staying here with me. I wish I didn't have allergies. I wish I didn't have anxiety. 

But I do. And I have to make impossible choices because of it.