As some of you know, Y and I had a cat when we were in Australia. We had to give him up for adoption when we moved back to Malaysia and I still get sad whenever we mention him because I’m convinced that Tommy thinks we didn’t love him anymore and that’s why we gave him away.
Last night, I decided to try and track Tommy down to see how he’s doing. The lady who had helped to find him a home had given us the name, clinic and phone number of the vet that had found Tommy’s new owners, so I got the vet’s email off his website and emailed him. I don’t know if he remembers Tommy, or the new owners, or if the new owners are even contactable via email or anything, but I really hope I can find Tommy again. He probably isn’t called that anymore.
And then I got a little emotional and cried. Just a little bit.
Every now and then, Y talks about getting another pet. But I always say no. My excuses are plenty, if valid. We can’t have a pet because we don’t have time for one; we can’t have a pet because it would require too much extra work; we can’t have a pet because I’m not going to clean up after it day and night; we can’t have a pet because it would destroy our furniture.
When I’m being honest, I add: we can’t have a pet because we can’t commit to one for the next 12-15 years and I hate giving away pets. They always know it’s because we don’t want them anymore, or so I tell myself. In fact, I made Y promise we would never give Tommy away when we first got him. Then we gave him away.
But what I never say is: we can’t have a pet because I don’t want to fall in love with it so much that it would break my heart when we lose it. Because the price of emotional investment is just too high.
