Now don’t get me wrong; lest you get the mistaken impression I’ve entirely lost my mind, I have to tell you something I hope will sway you in the direction of believing I am not, after all, crazy. Yes, it might very well appear that way, but as we already know, appearances are deceiving. At least that’s the rumor.
Anyway, what you need to know is that I’m currently fostering feral kittens #199 and 200. But that’s not the crazy part. I’d say 95% of my fosters eventually become adopted through Marin Humane. The other 5% I relocate to outdoor properties because they’re still not adoptable after socializing. That leads me to foster #198.
A few months ago I relocated a couple ferals to a family who wanted mousers on their property and Panther seemed to fit the bill. But as it turned out, he fooled us all into believing he was a wild man when all along he was a master of disguise.
In short order, Panther showed his true colors. Granted, his fur is jet black yet he’s a veritable kaleidoscope of personality. So when I removed him from his relocation, I decided to take him home and work with him. Normally I foster kittens because adult ferals are almost always unadoptable. But something about this guy made me try — maybe the fact that black adult cats are last to be adopted at shelters.
After a month or so, Panther slowly settled in and I began to witness a loving, gentle, sweet soul. He’s actually a snuggle-puss, a foreign experience to me since my 3 cats were once semi-feral and still aren’t exactly cuddlers. I marvel at Panther’s quick transformation and admire his willingness to get to know 7 new animals, acclimate to an indoor home and tolerate a not-so-crazy foster mom. In short order, he made me love him.
So this is the part where you need to remember until last week I currently had only 3 cats, all failed fosters — too feral to be adopted but too domestic to be strictly outdoor mousers. I call them tweeners and they are who I end up adopting.
In fact, two months after fostering Panther, I knew he’d be a shoe-in to be adopted. But I kept finding excuses to keep him a little longer. Next thing I knew, I’d kept him too long to let him go. In other words, all this gibberish is to say yes, I adopted another cat. There, I said it! And no, I’m not crazy, especially when you consider after 200 fosters I’ve only adopted 5. I’d say I have incredible restraint, wouldn’t you?
At shelters, kittens fly out the door practically moments after being available for adoption. Everyone loves kittens. Adults can wait weeks for a family. So they are who I keep. And yes, I now have 4 dogs and 4 cats but who’s counting? Anyway, I’m sure you’ll read more about my latest furry addition in blog posts to come.
By the way, he’s not Panther anymore. The last two weeks I’ve been calling him a variety of names to see if any stick (none of which he seems particularly enamored with). The first week he was Scooter, followed by Drake. The second week he was Blaze but when I recognized utter confusion in his eyes, I finally made a decision after witnessing how much he enjoys dashing from room to room chasing the laser pointer. So ladies and gents, meet Dash.