Separation Anxiety

This post is dedicated to my pet cat, Tommy.


I took Tommy in when he was only two months old. Shared my space with him and provided for him as much as I can. He was a tiny furball and now has grown to be a handsome ginger. Tommy is my everything – he has been my companion, sleeps and plays with me. His purrs calm me whenever I came home stressed from work. Even my Etsy store was named after him.

He was sent to be sterilised at 9 months old and at 4 months old, he’d received two vaccinations. Toys, catnips, scratching board – all for Tommy! I deactivated my own instagram account and created one for Tommy. My life revolves around Tommy. Even when I’m out on dates, I’d shop for Tommy and think of Tommy who’d be waiting for me back at home.

To the majority of those who are going to criticise and judge me for giving away Tommy, keep those nasty remarks to yourself please. It was not an easy decision to make and a selfish one you’d say. I’m stuck in between saving myself – trying to get out of the pithole and saving Tommy. Of course I’d have to save my ass first before I can get up to save anything/anyone else. It has been two months of work with no pay. Given the industry I’m in, only time will tell how long more we can survive. While I try to get back up on my two feet and get a job with a stable income, I’d decided to give Tommy up for adoption. To a family who is more than willing to share their space with him and provide a forever home for him.

They’re coming for him tonight. And as I packed his favourite toys, his shampoo and his treats, I’m feeling emotional. Like a mum sending off her child on his first day of school. I know he’ll be happy once he’s settled in his new home. He’ll have a friend to play with. She’s called Chanel and she’s 9 years old.

I know I’ve done my best in the recent years with Tommy and he’ll always be my baby.



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