Last night, Emerald's adopter came to sign the papers and pick her up. After a bit of protest, Emerald was lowered hind-end first into the cat carrier and shut behind the door, looking out apprehensively. She went out the door to her new life and her new home, and that was that.

I wasn't sure how I would feel. It's a bittersweet experience. On one hand, I've fulfilled my purpose: to care for her and prepare her for a permanent home. I know the woman who chose her will love her dearly and care for her well. I'm happy for that.

But the house seems empty now, and a little bit sad. I keep thinking about Emerald and remembering with a little shock that she's not here anymore. I keep expecting to be assaulted by her many meows and her pleading eyes, her padding paws following me everywhere I go and her prickling claws digging into my leg if I delay picking her up. I miss the soft furry warmth of her little body and the rapturous purring as I pick her up and settle her on my lap. I miss being met at the door, and I even rather miss the mess she made kicking litter out of her box every day.

Hopefully the new foster cat will arrive soon to fill that empty space. I wonder if it will get easier or harder with consecutive cats. We'll see. I guess if it gets too hard, I can always adopt my own.