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60 DAYS IN: CAT VERSION

I get off the plane, and Sabre is immediately whisked away by a quarantine official.

“Bye, Sabre! I’ll see you soon!” I say, helpless. I’m advised to go to the nearby quarantine station after I pick up my bags, to make sure they have all the necessary paperwork to process Sabre.

At baggage claim, I reconsider my decision to figure this all out by myself. It’s overwhelming, these four giant suitcases containing my life’s belongings. But, I manage, hoisting them onto a cart, and make my way toward quarantine.

Timmy and one other guy, Felipe, had offered to pick me up at the airport. Timmy even sent me a picture of the back of his truck to show me all my suitcases could fit. But it just seems really soon to be meeting someone and have them help me, and have them come to my living space that I haven’t even seen for myself yet. So I’m stuck with figuring out how to get all these bags sorted and into a large enough Uber to transport everything.

As I make the trip along the bumpy sidewalk, my suitcases fly off the cart a couple of times. It’s sweaty work loading and reloading them, and I glance around, embarrassed at my clumsiness.

I get to see Sabre again for one brief moment at the temporary quarantine station, handing the officials my paperwork before he’s taken away again. They tell me he’ll need to be in the facility for anything from a couple of weeks to a couple of months.

The lady behind the counter sees the helpless look on my face. “You can visit, you know,” she says gently. “The people who operate the facility genuinely love animals. And the space for the cats is wonderful. He’ll be partially indoors, partially outdoors, in his own private suite. There’s lots of fresh air, and he’ll get to see mongooses and deer and all sorts of other things.”

I breathe a huge sigh of relief. Her words mirror the way it’s described online.

Visions of Sabre in a dimly lit maximum security prison cell, being allowed to stretch for an hour a day, flee my mind. That’s one thing I don’t need to worry about.

I’d researched this already, but it’s extra reassuring hearing it directly confirmed by someone working closely with the facility.

I’ll miss him, of course, but it will be more stabilizing for him to have everything set up in the apartment by the time he moves in.

I’ll get my bearings, too, so he won’t feed off my own anxiety as I adjust to the new location.

And I feel a tiny bit free. After looking after Sabre for twelve years, which I’ve loved every minute of, I’m going to have a little bit of time to just settle in and get myself oriented to the new city. I won’t have to worry about food or water or giving him attention, not that Sabre is high maintenance at all.

Right up until I left San Francisco, I was feeding John’s diabetic cat, and giving it insulin twice a day at set times, so going from that to no cats for a couple of weeks feels like a huge amount of freedom from timetables and parental responsibility. I feel guilty and selfish for feeling this way, because Sabre asks very little of me and gives me so much affection and companionship in return.

I hope he enjoys his little getaway.

And I really hope the quarantine facility is as nice as I’ve heard it is.