My favorite cat (next to mine, of course) has been adopted. Little Ismael was the most endearing little guy. A black and white charmer who completely stole my heart. I spent almost 30 minutes with him last week and didn't want to put him back. He was just such a little love.
Well, I checked the adoption page and he's found his forever home. I am so happy. And so sad.
The one hard part about being a shelter volunteer is letting go. I realize the whole point of my being there is to care for these animals until they find a family. And I am, in fact, thrilled every time one of my charges get adopted. But it's so hard to see them go on a selfish, personal level.
One of the first things I do when I arrive for my shift is to check the board to see who has been adopted since my last visit. I usually do a happy dance. I love knowing that the little gray has found a home. Or that bonded pair that had been there for months now have non-stop lap access. But every so often there's one animal that is more special to me whose adoption makes me a little sad. Ismael (Izzy, as I called him) was the cat I would have adopted if Cipher (The World's Most Amazing Cat, Screw You if You Don't Agree tm) was willing to share. I would have been so happy to have given him a home. And I am happy to know some incredibly lucky person now has that little guy curled up on their bed. But I cannot help but feel sad that I won't get to snuggle with him again.
I know when I go in tomorrow there will be new cats. And I know that I'll have a new favorite kitty. But I've learned that there are some cats that are more memorable, or that I love more than others. And little Izzy was one of those cats.
I'm going to miss him. And I'm so jealous of whoever it scratching his tummy now.