So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodnight

I don't think I'll ever see Napoleon the Cat again. On the one hand, this makes me happy. Of course. Five-month-old Napoleon and his humans had been living in a tent by the Chicago River, and it's simply getting too cold at night for them to be safe and comfortable.

Plus, Caleb and his wife are nice people. They deserve this opportunity that has come their way. This window-washing job in Cleveland will make it possible for all three of them to live indoors, in a shelter that has shower facilities. They can save enough money to move into a furnished apartment. Once they have plumbing and an address, she can take her boards, get licensed and resume her career as a hairstylist.

All good.

Yea!

So why aren't I happy?

I will miss them. These three souls have taken up residence in my thoughts, prayers and imagination. I spoke to them, and watched Napoleon grow, several times a week since Memorial Day. I enjoyed giving them books and then discussing the stories with them. I loved hearing how in love they are with the kitten they rescued, and telling them about my cat. I was happy to help them, with crumpled dollar bills, change, oversized plastic bags to keep their belongings dry, and cat food. I didn't take one of my coats to Goodwill because I thought Napoleon's mom might be able to make use of it.

Still, I hope they're gone from Chicago for good. I prefer the twinge of longing I feel when I look at the spots on the corners where they panhandled daily to the fear I feel about how living outdoors through a Chicago winter would be.