Fadra of all.things.fadra, Social Dialect and Charitable Influence is my guest today. Yes, she writes all three blogs! Can you imagine?

Today she has written a thoughtful letter to Beamer, the newest furry member of her family.

Dear Beamer,

What a silly name, right?

I didn’t give it to you but apparently that’s been your name since 2008, when you were first adopted.

Yes, I’m sorry to break the news to you but you ARE adopted. In fact, this is your second adoption.

I don’t want you to feel like anything is wrong with you. Trust me, it’s usually something wrong with people. In your case, you were adopted by someone that didn’t quite understand what unconditional love meant.

I’m sure she took adequate care of you. She even took the time to thoroughly fill out the intake survey when she dropped you off at the place where she originally adopted you. She said you were very affectionate and bossy and demanding. She said you liked to cuddle and be held. And she said you sometimes had accidents when she didn’t pay attention to you or you were “mad” at her.

But the real reason she gave you up is that her daughter is moving to Texas. She said she is also thinking about retiring, selling her home, and moving to Texas.

Apparently, there are no cats allowed in Texas.

That’s cool, though. We just moved to Maryland and plan to stay here a while. It’s actually a pretty liberal state and I’m pretty sure the legislation is pretty tight when it comes to keeping your cats.

Yep, when we adopt, it’s for keeps. Let me give you a little history…

Emma is our 9 year old toy poodle. She’s been in our family of misfits for almost four years now. I wasn’t looking for a dog the day I walked into the pet store. But there was an adoption fair and one thing led to another. Before I knew it, I had scooped up that half-blind, toothless puppy mill reject and called her my own. She’s a work in progress but she’s come a long way.

Roscoe is our 1 year old shih tzu. At least that’s what we think he is. If there was a breed of dog called “pure joy,” I’m sure that’s what he would be considered. Yes, he’s a puppy and he’s still got a lot of learning to do. We picked him up from a rescue group who had found him in a city shelter. Apparently, the dogcatcher got him and brought him in. You don’t have to feel sorry for anyone though. His owner actually came to pay her $30 fee and claim him but when the clerk asked for her ID, she refused. And then promptly left saying she would just go get another dog.

Her loss. Totally.

Now, I have some news for you and I wanted to break it to you gently but I thought I should just put it out there.

We have another cat.

That’s right. You won’t be an only cat.

Josie is a 9 year old “domestic shorthair.” I think that’s what you’re all called anyway. She’s a little shy and a little skittish and she has trouble adapting to change. In fact, for the entire first year we had her, she barely came out from under the bed.

But you need to cut her some slack. She’s probably lonely and doesn’t even know it.

You see, my kitty Arnie passed away almost two years ago. He was my single-girl companion. He kept me company when I was lonely and cried myself to sleep. He entertained me when I would sit and watch TV. And he made sure I never had to go to the bathroom alone again.

He was my buddy and when he died at the age of 20, I felt a hole in my heart.

I had experienced grief and sadness but the loss of Arnie stayed with me. While the pain of him being gone lessened, I could physically feel an ache in my chest where I knew a part of my heart had gone missing. And it was a part that could never be mended.

Then recently, something in the universe told me it was time to look at some cats. We looked online. We read your bio. We studied your picture. And on a whim, we visited you this weekend.

Everyone in the family thought you would be perfect, except me. I was anxious. Would you fit in or would you upset the balance in our house?

Mommy, don’t you just love Beamer? my son asked me.

No, I told him. Not yet.

For me, love isn’t instant. And when I picked you up today, I still felt that certain sense of apprehension. You meowed the whole way home and I had the knot of dread in my stomach that I get every time I make a major decision involving change. The knot that says: Are you sure this is a good idea?

But you’re here now and I’ve gotten to spend time with you. You are soft and sweet. You love to rub my head. You let me rub your belly. And from behind, if only for an instant, I see a glimpse of my Arnie again.

You aren’t Arnie. You are Beamer. And I just wanted to write you this letter to let you know that you are finally home.

With love from your adopted mom,

Fadra

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