For Molly

She found her way into our house via a tree six years ago on the 4th of July weekend. I noticed our next-door neighbor's dog standing watch under our big oak tree and thought she was looking at some squirrel or bird. When she didn't move after about half an hour, I went outside to see what was up, and there she was. Scrawny little kitty. The neighbor came over and was able to rescue her from her predicament. She ran off around our neighbor's garage as soon as those four little paws hit the ground.

Later that afternoon, we were getting stuff ready for our four-house 4th of July party, when that same neighbor came out with the kitten. Seems he'd left the garage door open and he'd found the furball sleeping under the car. She was the hit of the party. Every kid wanted to hold her, and so did many of the adults. By the end of the party, E. had named her and somehow, that made her ours. She was skittish, not very loving - definitely NOT a lap cat. Miss Independent. I don't believe I ever even heard her purr in the last six years. She tolerated the boys and they learned to leave her alone when those ears went flat.

Fast forward to last August. Boys decide they want a dog. We searched and searched for just the right one before we brought Sheba home. Wonderful dog - loving, quiet (unless you walk by the front window or ring our doorbell) and curious about her new housemate. I did everything I could to ease the transition but the cat wanted none of it. She took her frustrations out on our carpet, then our sleeper sofa in the guest room, and finally, a bean bag chair in the boys room.

It wasn't an easy decision to make. We tried to find someone we knew who might want to take Molly in. Stress was taking its toll on her and our house. So today, I took her to the SPCA where we adopted Sheba. E. understood why. I told him that at least she'd have a chance to be adopted there. I'd make sure to tell them that she should not be around dogs or little kids who like to pull tails, etc. I also told him that whoever adopted Molly from the shelter would be more likely to return her there should they realize that they couldn't keep her.

I didn't think I'd be as affected by it as I am. After I signed her over, I went out to the car and started bawling like a baby. I knew I couldn't drive in that state and I went into the other area of the shelter that housed the cats. I wanted to see where she'd be while awaiting her new family. A kind volunteer saw my tear-stained face and asked what was wrong. When I told her, she just grabbed hold and hugged me. Then she sat me down and told me all about how they care for their animals. She even went back to the holding area to see how Molly was adjusting. From what she told me, Molly sounded relaxed and calm - not scared at all. God. I'm crying as I type this. I didn't expect this flood of emotion over a cat that never seemed to want much from me except food and litter box cleaning. I guess she meant more to me than I realized.

I hope that you'll be queen of the house wherever you go, Molly, and that you'll always have a window in the sun.