A couple of days ago, Honeybun and I—well, it was more of me, actually—decided to let go of Kelso, our cat. After just a week of living with the kitten, our room already looked as if it survived a violent 30-second earthquake: all our things—books, clothes, bags, containers—were scattered everywhere; Kelso’s stuff—cage, litterbox, bed, etc.—was also all over the place, making the room look like a mini-zoo. And then there was his hair (found on our clothes, on our bedsheet, on my laptop, and in the air) which made me sneeze on a daily basis, and Honeybun scratch like crazy.

Apart from these, there were other reasons why I wanted to let go of the cat: 1.) Unlike most cats that leave you alone, Kelso was a little too sweet and demonstrative of his emotions (which wasn’t really bad, come to think of it, except for times when he was annoyed); 2.) I had to sacrifice my time for others, and allot it for Kelso instead (for chores like buying his food, taking him to the vet, and my favorite, scooping his poop); and 3.) He was getting expensive. After providing him with a supply of not exactly cheap dry and wet cat food (which didn’t last really long), a cage, a bed and a litterbox, I also had to regularly shell out cash for shots, treats, toys and hygiene products.

And then the most important reason of all: Honeybun and I discovered we were pregnant. We definitely wanted a healthy baby so we had to remove everything that posed a risk on the health of Honeybun and the baby—and that meant including Kelso. Honeybun’s allergy had to stop, and who knew what a scratch or a bite could do? And then there’s toxoplasmosis too.

Honeybun, an over-emotional crybaby who had already gotten attached to Kelso big time, expectedly wanted the cat to stay. She promised me she’d keep her distance and as the websites suggested, wear gloves if she had to clean the litterbox. I wouldn’t have any of it. A threat is a threat is a threat, so it was really time to get rid of the kittycat.

And so my little cousin Trina, who was an instant fan of Kelso the day she met him, eventually became the new owner of our cat, much to her surprise and delight. We knew it was for the best. After all, Trina has a bigger house with marble floors, and she always gets what she wants—even if it’s 10 extra pouches of wet food, or the most expensive pet shampoo in town.

On our first night without Kelso, Honeybun was inconsolable—she bawled for 20 minutes. She clearly missed the cat so much: how he’d stuff himself between her and the wall, how he’d jump on top of the electric fan and stay there for minutes, how he’d hide behind the bed before attacking a toy, how he’d meow whenever we shouted “Treat!” (complete with a bowl of wet food for him, of course), even how he’d quietly go to his litterbox and do his thing, me and Honeybun giggling in the background.

He was her baby. She fed him, played with him, gave him a bath, applied his creams, brushed his takes-forever-to-dry hair, brought him to the vet, and scratched his belly. She was so used to doing all these that she felt useless now that she didn’t have to do them anymore.

Honeybun was also worried about him. She knew Kelso might have a bigger, better house now, but she was convinced that no one could top how she spoiled him.

She was so heartbroken, even reaching the point where she blamed the baby for us having to get rid of the cat.

Well, it has been a couple of weeks or so since we gave away Kelso and surprisingly, Honeybun doesn’t want to visit him over at his new home, explaining that while she does miss him, she sort of feels annoyed every time she sees his pictures or remembers his face.

The tears still continue to flow, by the way, but this time, it’s not because of a feline creature anymore. A couple of days ago, she was weeping over how all her clothes don’t fit her anymore—to think that she’s just in her second month. Yesterday, I found her sobbing and when I asked her why, she said, “According to the Chinese calendar method, we’re having a girl!” And then awhile ago, tears were streaming down her face because she wasn’t enjoying her green mangoes (I forbade her to eat bagoong because it’s bad for the heart).

Thanks to morning sickness, all these food restrictions, and moments when she’ll miss our dear Kelso, I’m pretty sure that Honeybun will be shedding more tears in the next few days, weeks and months.

Seven months from now, our daughter will be born (no, we’re not calling her Kelsa) and I shall join the cry-fest. Tears of joy, here we come.

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