As you may know from my introductory post, I’ve been caring for a former stray cat named Ren. Our lives have revolved around our baby Ren-Ren for the past two years. Well, things have sadly changed. We were forced to surrender Ren to an animal shelter, where she was likely euthanized.
What Happened
Long story short, management saw her during our annual apartment inspection. Our complex has always had a no-pets policy, but nobody pays the rule any attention. Everyone has pets, including the maintenance workers who live here. It’s kind of understood that they don’t care as long as they don’t actually see them.
Unfortunately, it was raining on our inspection day. We couldn’t hide Ren like we did in past years by putting outside. To make matters worse, Ren’s curiosity and territorial nature got the best of her and she decided to follow the office manager from room to room as she inspected the apartment. The harder we tried corral her, the more Ren refused to be contained. Predictably, we got a notice on our door the following week that we had to get rid of our “unauthorized pet” or risk eviction.
Our only option was to take Ren to an animal shelter. Most places rejected her for being semi-feral, we didn’t have time to set up a rehoming profile, and we don’t know anyone who likes cats. Nevertheless, we still had hopes that she would find a nice new home. The shelter people were optimistic that they could rehabilitate her. We even saw her profile on the shelter’s website, which was marked “Ready to go home.”
A mere day later, her profile was gone. Although there’s a slight chance that they gave her to an organization that specializes in training cats to hunt rats in barns and warehouses—something that she’s already extremely adept at—we believe that they probably decided that she wasn’t suitable for adoption after all. Her bad behavior, combined with the shelter’s overcrowding problem, could only mean one thing. I was devastated.
The Aftermath
To be honest, we probably would have had to surrender Ren sooner or later anyway. Her behavior had devolved from challenging to flat unpredictable lately. She constantly attacked us for no reason. We were almost at the end of our rope.
Having to surrender her like that, though? None of us are okay. When Oreo, our other cat friend, disappeared, we were somewhat mollified by the knowledge that the situation had been out of our control. With Ren, we were 100% responsible for this outcome. We took her away from the only home she’s ever known, knowing that she would likely be euthanized. We know that we didn’t have a choice, but we still feel awful about it.
My parents aren’t doing well. My dad gets depressed every time he comes home and Ren’s not at the door to greet him. My mom is the most upset because she was Ren’s “person.” Ren would sleep in her lap in the mornings and they often took walks together. She hasn’t slept well since the surrender. Plus, they were the ones who took her to the shelter, so they can’t stop reliving the event.
I’m a mess too. I’ve cried almost every day, sometimes multiple times a day. I’ve never cried this much in my entire life. I practically lose it every time I look at places that she frequented, like my desk chair, the top of my parents’ dresser, or an entertainment unit shelf. I feel like there’s a rock permanently lodged in my chest. The worst part is that everyone else around here still has their pets. I feel like we’re being singled out. The unfairness makes me cry even more.
Lastly, we’re grappling with contradictory emotions. Those last few months with Ren were very stressful. Now, all of those worries are gone. We don’t have to stay up late, get up early, or sleep in shifts to monitor her. We don’t have to be on alert all the time. At the same time, we feel guilty about feeling relieved. We have tons of free time, yes, but we don’t know how to fill it. I don’t want to feel anything positive about her absence.
Final Thoughts
Would I have done anything differently? No. All roads would have led to the same conclusion eventually. While I regret not being able to afford the fancy toys and vet visits that she deserved, I don’t regret taking her in.
I got to watch her grow from a fearsome adolescent to an adorable chonkster. She had plenty of tasty food, a safe place to sleep, and a better life than she would have had otherwise. Even when she acted like a little demon, she was my friend. Life is a lot less interesting without her and her daily antics.
I pray every night that wherever she is, in this life or the next, she knows that we love and miss her every day. I wish that things had turned out better.