Sadness on a Saturday

"Hello" my voice warbled down the telephone. "I'd like to... I'd like... Please may I..." My voice cracked and I let out a hiccuped sob. "I need to rehome my cats". As the words left my mouth I broke down into tears.

I am not attractive when I cry. My chin triples, my face blotches in pink hives and I moan like a horse in distress. But my heart felt so heavy that I needed a release.

The stranger at the other end of the telephone was very good about the crying. "I'll just take some details down' she said, in a soft, soothing voice not dissimilar from the one my beautician uses before causing me pain. The woman on the telephone would not be causing the pain, but it was there all the same.

"I love them very much" I told her through the hiccups. "But I moved back in with my parents and brought Hermione with me and it turns out that Papa is allergic to cats and it is like he has had a really bad cold for three months and he can't sleep and gets really bunged up, and the doctor confirmed it was the cats this week but my parents adopted a cat called Rose at about the same time I moved Hermione in, but it has just taken some time for his symptoms to flare and he really does suffer" I explained in one great big long breath.

"Tell me about the cats" the lady prompted, whilst no doubt crossing her fingers that I would not sob anymore. Her efforts were in vain.

"Welllllllll....." My words merged into a cry. "Sorry" I muttered, "Just give me one minute..." I said.

"Take your time" The lady said.

I took a breath. "They are both about three years old, female, spayed. Rose is beautiful, grey and pink-nosed but a little bit bow-legged. She is very docile and shy and we think that she came to us because she was abused in her last home because she is very nervy, afraid of any quick or sudden movements" I said.

"Hermione is like me- all different colours and a bit nosey and really vocal. She is really fun but whereas Rose will sit on your lap Hermione never give out much love" I welled up again. "I thought I'd have them until my kids were old enough to appreciate them too... It is all very sad..."

"I understand" the Lady said.

"I even wrote a short story about them, I think they are that brilliant" I told her. "I want to make sure they are not spilt up and that they go to a good home".

"They will" the lady told me.

"Okay" I hiccuped. "Thanks". I ran the back on my hand across the underside of my nose, a trail of green snot stretching between the two body parts.

I rang off and sat on the floor of the kitchen to cry some more. I let the tears flow down my puffy cheeks as I stroked Rose and listened to her purr. My girls have to be given away. I feel I have let them down, that they trusted me to carry out the sacred task of giving them a home and that I have failed. I am heartbroken.