A Painful Decision

This morning I made a heart-wrenching decision to let Oliver go. Frances is driving him to the animal shelter as a write this, so I didn't have to endure the painful trip out there, listening to him cry. I'm grateful for that.

Oliver, my "middle" child as I've often referred to him, really needs lots of attention. He would thrive in a home where he's the only cat. While he has always loved Ryan, my oldest cat, he had a hard time learning to tolerate the presence of Manteo, my baby. After I brought Manteo home, Oliver first started exhibiting some violently aggressive behavior, but fortunately it didn't last too long.

With the addition of Frances' two cats to the household, Oliver has gotten more and more aggressive. Sarah at least fights back (and very vocally), but Mariah is fearful of him. Last night Oliver attacked her while she was using the "potty", and it wasn't the first time, sad to say. So this morning, rather than go to the litter box, Mariah went potty on the papers on my desk.

Frances was going to get rid of Mariah, but that wouldn't have solved the problem. Oliver would still pick fights with Sarah. Frances and I would still be stressed out from their fighting. So, hard as it was to do, I decided Oliver should be the one to go. I cried. Oliver is so affectionate, so sweet to people. He'll let just about anyone who comes to the house pet him. I hope he will be placed in a good home, where he can be the center of attention. That would be perfect for him. At least I know if he doesn't get adopted, he won't suffer. There's a degree of comfort in knowing that.