Decision Paralysis

Usually, I find myself in a state of decision paralysis when faced with too many options. Which TV to buy? Which computer? Which car? What features do I want, what don't I? Too many choices!

In the situation with Belmont, I've been in a different kind of decision paralysis. I want to get rid of her, NEED to get rid of her, and have had difficulty finding options. Thinking about it today, I could see two, neither of which feels good.

First, my mother offered to find her a home down there, if I bring her with me at Christmas. It's a very generous offer (motivated, one imagines, by a desire to see her daughter stay juuust on this side of the sanity line), but there are two problems for me with this. One, it's a little logistically challenging: can I get her on my flight? If traveling with a pet counts as your carry-on, can I get my work computer (which I need, as I have to work 1.5 days down there that week) into what they will consider a personal item? Two, I would feel like such a hypocrite, having her sedated for the flight when I wouldn't let the vet do the dental work they said she should have because I didn't want her sedated. She's 16, and I don't like the idea, but I'll do it for my own convenience? Oh, nice, ccr.

Plus, of course, that's a month away.

Second, take her to the MSPCA and surrender her. I would feel very guilty about this, as I'm pretty sure they don't foster animals, and she should be in a home, not a shelter. But I can't find a home, and neither can my friend S (from whom I got Belmont to begin with), who has, bless her, been doing a lot of the virtual legwork to try and find a solution. Every road we have tried has dead-ended; every person, every shelter, every idea has come to nothing. (In the latest news, the friend I had lunch with Friday checked with a friend of hers who was talking about getting an animal, and that person decided to get a puppy.)

But. But. I need her out of here. Soon. Sooner.

This weekend, I had to shut her in the office both mornings at 6-something, so I could get some more sleep, because she wanted me to get up, damn it, and sit on the couch to keep her company while she napped--seriously, that's what she wants. She could come to the bed and sleep with me there, but that isn't the way she wants it.

This morning, I dragged myself out of bed to her yowling (I mean, the alarm had gone off, it was time to get up, but she wasn't shutting up), and dragged around trying to get moving, willing her to be quiet, and when I went to make coffee the machine didn't work. And she just kept yowling, and I was on the verge of tears because I Just Could Not Deal. Morning, Monday, cold, dark, no coffee, and yelling from the cat. Cat people joke about their cats being furry terrorists, but it's true, and it's only a a joke when you love them. When you don't ... it feels like an abusive relationship. (Or what I imagine that feels like. I've have never, fortunately, actually experienced that.)

So, I ran into S on my way out of stitch and bitch tonight. She was on her way to see a few friends, including one who had expressed possible interest in taking Belmont, so we'll know about that tomorrow (I mean, S will know tonight, and I will know tomorrow!). And if not, S said she can take Belmont to the MSPCA tomorrow.

She's been really good about the whole thing, very understanding, not at all giving me any guilt about it, which I appreciate just as much as the work she's been doing in search of a place for Belmont. I'm generating enough guilt on my own, I don't need it from outside. This has to happen, I want it to happen, the getting her out of my home part. And I've done the best I can to control where she's going, and now it's time to let go. The guilt will diminish, I hope, and seeing Carlos a happy only cat again will help that.