Tomorrow is a BIG day.

Simon is moving to his new home.

I undersold him as grey, fat, dandruffy, and with the shriveled ear. Plus, I explained. He pees on all of our stuff.

I think I might possibly have found the nicest person on the planet because he claims he is “excited” to meet Simon tomorrow. Not as excited as I am.

I think there is a fair chance that when he is an only cat he will stop peeing on things. There is also a chance that he won’t. The vet says that a fresh place that has no smell of other cats or marking spots is his best bet. So off he goes.

In a week of bad luck this is the bright spot. Much better than the wet spot.

Tucking Oliver in last night my mother was dismayed to watch him smell his sheets for cat pee before he snuggled under the covers. He has only peed on Oliver’s bed twice, but the memory is sharp. So Oliver’s bed has to pass the sniff test.

It has been almost a year since I started looked for someone to take Simon. Anyone who comes over and shows him the slightest interest has been offered ownership.

This upsets Leo. As I described before Leo thinks that eliminating a family member over the act of elimination is horrid. I don’t know exactly where I stand. But if I sit down on a chair, couch or bed that is soaked in pee one more time I will be D-O-N-E. And so will Simon.

Is adopting a pet more binding than marriage? Is there no pet act that makes them unsuitable for co-habitation. I guess biting dogs fall on the other side of that line. What about peeing? Most of my friends and family agree that this situation is unlivable. Clearly at least one person on earth thinks he is worth a second shot. I have a few people that tell me that I am not fit for pet ownership. Sometimes I wonder. Its not as if we can mutually decide to part ways. Simon can’t hire a lawyer and fight for his rights. I took him in at 8 weeks and have semi lovingly supported him for 13 years. He has grown accustom to a certain lifestyle of unlimited food and fresh water, super soft spots to sit, having extended back and forth meowing conversations, and viewing the world as his litter box.

Hopefully he will be able to compromise at least one of these expectations in his next relationship.

Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

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Anna Rosenblum Palmer is a freelance writer based in Denver, CO. She writes about sex, parenting, cat pee, bi-polar disorder and the NFL; all things inextricably intertwined with her mental health. In her free time she teaches her boys creative swear words, seeks the last missing puzzle piece and thinks deeply about how she is not exercising. Her writing can be found on Babble, Parent.co, Great Moments in Parenting, Ravishly, Good Men Project, Sammiches and Psych Meds, Playpen, Crazy Good Parent, and YourTango. She also does a fair amount of navel gazing on her own blog at annarosenblumpalmer.com.

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