I returned Cyrus to his previous owner today. I’d grown attached to him, more than I expected to, and that’s what makes this hard to write about.
Sona, my older cat, never came around to him. Since March, I’ve been trying — slow introductions, separate spaces, all the things you’re supposed to do to get two cats used to each other. None of it worked. Cyrus spent most of his time in a cage, waiting for a day that kept not arriving.
I don’t think Sona did anything wrong. Some cats just don’t want company, and mine turned out to be one of them. I also don’t think Cyrus did anything wrong. He was just a kitten in a house that already had its own resident, and the resident wasn’t having it.
At some point the question stopped being “will they eventually get along” and became “how much longer can I keep a cat in a cage while I wait to find out.” That’s not a good way for any animal to live. So I made the call.
I keep telling myself this is the right decision, and I believe it is. Cyrus gets to live somewhere he isn’t confined. Sona gets her space back. It’s just that knowing something is right doesn’t make it feel less like a loss.
I don’t have a neat way to end this. I’m sad, and I think I made the correct choice, and both of those things are true at the same time.
