Dashed Hopes & The Sickness That Follows

I don't write blogs unless there's an incredibly powerful need for me to do so. I have that reason to once again, compose this here blog and post it. I need to do something, get it off my chest somehow, and I guess I need support and comfort too, so, hence the blog.

I feel like I'm going to throw up, which is pretty much impossible for me. I have a ball in my gut that's sitting at the back of my throat and it's uncomfortable and it's dread and I just want to throw up and cry. Cry my fucking eyes out because I'm so devastated and heart broken.

Many of you, or probably more likely only some of you, know I'm well on my way to being a crazy cat lady. Everything is cats for me. They are my great love, next to writing and possibly Chris Hemsworth's arms. But cats. Everywhere.

Today, I went on the search for a kitten to adopt and share my love with. To give Jasper, my loving baby boy, a brother. I was so excited, and when dad got excited too, I was even more excited. The kind of excited that makes your belly tremble and gives you the sudden urge and fear that you're quiet possibly going to piddle yourself if you don't just calm the fuck down. Like I said, cats, everywhere.

I found him, or them. Two beautiful baby boys. Bengal baby boys to be exact. Brothers and close and adorable and they were there, for adoption, for me! My Thor and Loki, my new babies; Jasper's new little brothers. And the most exciting thing? They were close, they were free, they were pedigree with papers and they were perfect!

They weren't to be mine.

I contacted the owner, the one putting them up for adoption and she seemed lovely, asked me all types of questions about how I was with cats and kittens and what I would do for the kittens to make them happy and keep them healthy. I thought this made her a good person, meant she loved the kittens and wanted the best for them. The ad lied. They weren't in my area at all, they weren't even in my state. For all intensive purposes, they may as well have been on Pandora they were so far away. Darwin. DARWIN!

It all went to hell in a hand basket because of fucking DARWIN! This led to the owner telling me if I wanted the boys, I would have to pay for transport. I assumed I was looking at roughly 150 bucks. Wrong. So fucking wrong. She told me it was going to be no less than 500 bucks transportation and then another 200 for transfer fees for the papers, to put them in my name instead of hers. 700 bucks. 700 DOLLARS! SEVEN HUNDRED FUCKING DOLLARS!!

My boys, not longer or ever going to be my boys, had gone from free to good home, to seven hundred dollars. I can't afford that. Even if I wanted to, I can't and it makes me feel sick and it makes me cry and it makes me just want to stop living on this planet. My hopes, fucking dashed. I'm not going to get my beautiful Bengal babies. Thor and Loki won't be in my arms, won't be in existence. Jasper won't have his little brothers.

I feel like I've given birth and the babies have been stolen, or worse. This dread is keeping me from sleeping and I just, I don't even know what to do. I felt so horrible too, with having to disappoint the owner, with having to tell her I couldn't go through with it and was going to have to pull out, say no. Not adopt my babies.

She guilt tripped me. She fucking guilt tripped me!

I was told she was in Tasmania, she fucking wasn't. I was told the kittens were free, they weren't! I was told she was a loving and caring person, she fucking isn't. She tried for so long to get me to hand over money, tried so hard to pursued me into buying them. How much can you afford? One, that's none of your fucking business, and two, don't use my love for kitties and my need to love them as a fucking dagger to stab me with! How fucking rude!

Not only do I feel disgusting with myself for failing those beautiful boys, for failing myself and Jasper, but I feel horrible for feeling horrible when there wasn't anything I could do. I'm not fucking rich and I was willing to do anything for the kittens because I was under the belief that they were in Tasmania too and I would be able to drive to them and pick them up personally. I was crushed when I realized I couldn't adopt them, fucking crushed and heart broken and this pit just opened up in my stomach and I just wanted it to swallow me whole. But then for her to treat me like that, to guilt trip me and tell me I'd crushed her hopes of the kittens going to a loving home. To tell me that I was a liar and had contradicted myself. I wanted to scream.

And now, knowing she treated me this badly after not being able to get any money out of me, I'm wondering if she even had the kittens at all. And if she did, if she's hurting them, or treating them badly, or if she's just a bitch who can't handle being denied. She told me she was getting rid of them because she chose a new position in the company she works with and decided to move to an apartment building that doesn't allow cats. If this was the case, why let your cat breed? Why let your kitty have kittens? Why, knowing full well you'd have to adopt them out and run the risk of it not working out?

Gods, I hope to anyone listening that those gorgeous boys aren't being hurt or neglected. I feel so sick and heartbroken. My body needs sleep, I know it does, but I just can't. I can't shut off the worrying and I'm crying my eyes out because I let those kittens down and I'm a fucking horrible person and I wish I wasn't such a screw up and could afford to give all of the kitties the very best in life.

And on the RSPCA site, for adopting(with high fees sadly) pets from the pound, someone had abandoned their 10 year old cat. Who does that? WHO?! Why?! Why would you do that?! What is wrong with people?! 10 year old darlings are being abandoned, kittens are being used for extortion, what the fuck is the world coming to!?

I just want to curl up in a ball and die. I can't deal with this.
July 3rd, 2013 at 04:54pm