I received some very good news this week. Young Stuart, my former foster cat, has found his forever home! He was chosen by a guy who had seen Stuart’s video and decided they were a perfect match. Following a successful home check, Stuart was collected last Saturday, and is now busy settling in to his new home. Hooray!
Bon Voyage, Eric!
Last Sunday I bid farewell to Eric, and returned him to the Celia Hammond rescue centre. This will improve his chances of being rehomed as he’ll be seen by everyone who comes to choose a new cat from the centre, instead of just by people who are browsing the charity’s website. It was a tough decision to make, as I know Eric’s likely to spend quite some time living in a pen before he finds his forever home – he’s an FIV+ cat who’s aggressive towards other toms, so will require a home with an enclosed garden, and not everyone’s able to cat-proof their garden. But he’s had no offers of adoption during the 13 months I’ve been fostering him, so it’ll be for the best in the long run.
I’d love to adopt Eric myself, but it wouldn’t be the right thing to do. I know that he’ll be much happier in a home as the only cat, and where he can have unrestricted access to a safe, enclosed outside space. (I’m not able to cat-proof my garden, as I share it with my downstairs neighbours.) Plus it wouldn’t be fair on the rest of the HQ Cats if they were made to live with Eric permanently, as he can be a terrible bully. In fact, they’ve all been in non-stop party mode since Eric’s departure!
I took some final photos on Sunday morning before we left for the rehoming centre. So here’s Eric the Former East End Hard-cat, starring in his last ever Caturday Cat Pics!
“It’s time for me to move on. Deal wiv it.”
“I’ve tried me best wiv you, luv. I really ‘ave”
“But it’s time you got a fackin’ grip and started goin’ aht on yer own.”
“I’m sick to fackin’ death of draggin’ you round on this fackin’ lead. It just ain’t right.”
“To be blunt abaht it; I fink yer a bit Radio Rental*!”
“Don’t take it too ‘ard, luv! Tell you wot, I’ll do you a deal: I won’t try and climb up yer legs when you put me in that bleedin’ cat carrier, if you promise not to start fackin’ blubbin’ when we say goodbye. I fackin’ hate it when birds cry!”
Eric was true to his word, but I was unable to fulfill my side of the bargain.
Goodbye and good luck, Eric. It’s been a joy to spend a year in your company, and may you find your forever home soon!
*For the benefit of non-Londoners: Radio Rental is rhyming slang for mental. Which I am not.