Kirsten,

That was a wonderful story. You shouldn't beat yourself up over it. You did the best you could at that time in your life. Life is one big lesson. The only problem is, there are pop quizzes now and then.

My VERY first cat was named Harley. He was a neutered, adult male that I got from the Humane Society in Connecticut. I thought he would help me with my depression. He was a very loving cat who wanted to be near me all the time. He made me feel like I was being smothered. He also turned out to be nochturnal, and kept me awake at night. He wouldn't eat dry food, and as a punishment to me, would raid the garbage. Being raised with dogs all my life, and in my inexperience with cats, I tried closing him in the bathroom. All he did was howl.

After a week, I took him back to the Humane Society. I have felt SO guilty for so many years about not having the patience to work with him. But I knew absolutely NOTHING about cats back then (we're talking 14 years ago). Not a day goes by that I don't think of him, hoping he got the home he so deserved.


((((hugs)))))) honey!