I had to surrender Henry because I did not have the time to properly
integrate him into our two-cat household. Given the wildness of our
resident Bengal, it may in fact have been impossible to do so. With
Megan's help we found a permanent home for him, and I had a chance to
visit tonight, with my 16 yr old son.

This was several hours ago, and just now the sadness has hit me. He's
in a great place, in a multi-cat household where he's integrated
himself due to the skill of his new host, and he's happy - but this is
the first time I've had to "give up" on a cat, having adopted almost a
dozen strays and castaways since moving back to the Twin Cities.

He came out to greet me and my son as soon as we got there (though the
other visitors present reported that he was one of the first to greet
them as well). He was friendly, but strangely confused. I don't know
how much these little guys remember, or how poorly I can read a cat's
attitude.

Henry moved comfortably around the house, and even played with the
other cats from time to time. He's lost almost 3 lbs, and looks great.
The new owner discovered he had a Bartonella infection, and he's being
treated for that.

So, I'm convinced that the new owner knows cats (the other critters
were happy and healthy). And this last stop for Henry seems the best
for him. But I sure miss him. This is, of course, not his problem -
he's perfectly fine.

Perhaps it's a common reaction - "I've failed", "If only I'd tried
harder". But in reality, we can't be experts in everything. I've had
good luck with previous adoptees, but not enough skill to deal with a
problem situation. I'm a tremendous computer programmer and singer,
but with cat-culture I have a lot yet to learn.

Considering that at the time of adoption my alternatives were

1. Surrender Henry to a shelter
2. Subject him and our other cats to a segregated hell
3. Wait forever for an owner to come forward while the cats existed in
a segregated hell

.. I think he's found a great out.

Good old Henry. He's led a charmed life - protected by people since
kittenhood, I imagine. The three little girls who sheltered him for a
while stopped by my door, and had a blanket that they'd let him sleep
on. I handed Henry (17 lbs and furry) to these 3-6 year olds, and they
helpfully wrapped him in the blanket and hugged him, barely able to
hold his bulk. He was happy to be manhandled this way.

I was one way-station in his progress, and his ultimate disposition is
good, yet I still miss him. Far better than the gas chamber...

BLink

PS - Mary, don't bother answering. Henry is happy, though I'm sad. The
only contribution you could make is in revelling in my sadness, So to
save time, I'll just add "f.ck you, get back on your meds", which
hopefully will cover any necessary replies.