Getting it Wrong

It seems no matter how hard I try to make the right decision - no matter how long I take to ponder and weigh and question - I still get it wrong. Still grieving from the loss of Cody to coyotes, I decided to foster a mama and her six kittens from the Lenawee Humane Society, with the option of choosing my favorite kitten for adoption. It was a hard choice because all the kittens were good ones, people friendly and healthy, but I finally decided on the little black and white cow cat. When I returned the kittens just before Christmas, I kept her. When she was ten weeks, I was required to return her to the shelter for spaying. But she was still a question in my mind. She liked to climb the furniture and my legs with all four sets of claws. Me, well, I would eventually heal, but the furniture! I had worked so hard to earn the money for new furniture because our old furniture, besides being out of date, was clawed up by previous cats, especially Musi who insisted on being an indoor cat. Musi was terrified of being outdoors. She scratched upholstery, walls, woodwork, carpets - everything. I tried all different kinds of solutions, but to no avail. At the age of 4 years and 6 months, Musi was diagnosed with a brain tumor and I had to have her put to sleep. My next cats were Cassie and Cody. They loved out doors. I trained them not to claw the couch, but that was the old couch. It was being replaced, so I wasn't concerned with the damage. By the time my new couch and chair were delivered, they only scratched the rugs that could take it and survive. But this cat would not have the option of clawing trees outside. She would have to be an inside cat because of the coyote pack that had moved into the neighborhood. I couldn't put her outside when she was feeling wild and crazy. Shadows of Musi. I kept envisioning my fine furniture clawed and damaged. I asked myself how would I feel about this two weeks from now? So today, when I went to pick up cow cat (CECE) from the shelter, I told them I had changed my mind and would not be proceeding with the adoption. They said, no problem. She would probably be adopted by the end of the day. I cried all the way home. I cried on Tim's shoulder. I felt her absence as if I had forgotten a member of the family. I called the humane society, but the little kitten was already adopted. Now I don't care much about the couch and chair.