I sometimes wonder if I simply love too much. Or if I feel too much. Could it be possible? That there is actually a limit at which you are loving or feeling just enough and then you suddenly surpass it? I wonder if life would be simpler if I always loved just the right amount.
As it were, I don’t. My most recent example of this strange phenomenon that takes hold of me is with my little Paraguayan Street Cats. I have had them safe and sound (and heftily fed) for the last 2.5 weeks. They have made themselves at home in my bathroom and bedroom, playing with anything and everything, using their litter box, begging for food at the appropriate times, and pouncing on me any chance they woke up and realized they could be doing something way more fun than sleeping!
While they have aggravated me immensely and ensured that I spent many sleepless nights picking them off me and putting them on the ground, or finally locking them in the bathroom, they were great to come home to everyday. Their little meows and cries for attention and food were predictable – and I could hear the thud of them jumping off the bed when I opened the door downstairs to find them waiting on top of my man-made “gate” blocking them from going downstairs. Without fail they would greet me, eagerly awaiting whatever I had to offer them, whether it was kibble, my hand, or just my leg to rub against, (or climb up.)
Without a home to give them to, my friend drove me earlier to a vet’s office a short distance away that agreed to take them in until they find their forever homes. I know I did the right thing. I know that when I left for the U.S. from here they would have been without a place to go, and already so accustomed to me and my habits that it would have been harder on them to adjust somewhere else. But I still see that little black and white face looking me in the eye, meowing with a puzzled expression asking me, “What’s going on?”
I left them in that cage in the vet’s office, with the promise of good care, a cleansing bath, health and security. I know they will be taken care of, but it still hurts to feel like I abandoned them there. I wish it didn’t have to be so hard. I wish I didn’t have to get so attached or love animals so much to the point of my own sadness and feeling helpless to rescue them all. We all do what we can, and I know I did “what I could” but I still can’t help feeling like I could have done something more. I guess it is simply the curse of those who love and feel too much, to bear the weight of the world’s sadness whenever it should arise.
For now, all I can do is cross my finger’s that three little kittens find their homes. And soon.