I’ve fostered 241 feral kittens and never kept one of them. Not a one. And believe me, that’s super hard when I work for weeks and sometimes months to socialize for adoption a basically wild kitten. It’s incredibly rewarding when they eventually realize I’m not a predator and soon thereafter shower me with love and adoration. So letting go isn’t easy.
Then a couple months ago Anna called. She does rescue in the East Bay and found 4 kittens living dangerously close to the freeway. She trapped all 4 except an orange and white kitten who then somehow managed to escape the trap. Practically unheard of.
The next day Anna re-trapped the hungry kitten and promptly named him after escape artist, Houdini. Turns out he is a she, so she became Dini. Three of the 4 kittens were feral and will be Career Cats, re-homed to properties for rodent control but who receive shelter, daily food and water. Dini, however, went into foster.
After 3 weeks, Anna needed another foster person so once Dini was spayed I volunteered for #242. (I’ve a soft spot for orange cats.) After a couple weeks, I posted her for adoption on our Facebook site, Marin Friends of Ferals.
Three interested families quickly responded. I narrowed it down to a family with an orange male kitten whose littermate died so they wanted an indoor-only buddy for him. Now don’t get me wrong; I didn’t just hand over Dini. I went to their home and interviewed them before deciding they’d be a good fit.
Poor Dini was frightened going to yet another home in just over a month. Apparently she initially hid under the bed but soon emerged to lounge on a beanbag chair in the bedroom of her acclimation. But later that day the woman called to ask me to come clip Dini’s nails. Odd, but I did.
The second day she called, upset she’d found one flea (and kept it in a glass of water to show me). I erroneously assumed they would continue with flea treatment which Dini received the month prior. But I delivered more for the curled-up kitten still chillin’ in the beanbag chair.
The next day I was asked to come get Dini. They thought she was too shy to fit well with their kitten, although the pair hadn’t met yet. Huh?! I thought she was doing wonderfully. She wasn’t feral, just understandably scared. Seems I’d made a mistake in judgement choosing her guardians.
So yes, I brought the kitten home and to quote Britney Spears, “Oops, I did it again.” I adopted my 6th cat who I promptly renamed Mango. I know, I know. Do I really NEED a 6th cat? Absolutely not. Nobody needs 6 cats. But sometimes they need YOU. I felt the signs were saying: Face it Janet, this is your cat. And you know how I feel about signs…
So now I have an even 10 in the four-legged department — 4 dogs and 6 cats. (Don’t tell anyone.) Seriously, when you have 9, what’s one more? Anyway, Mango has been slowly working her way into her new family. When I’m in my office, my lap is never empty. She purrs so much and so loud, perhaps I should have named her Pursey.
Mango is less timid now. She tries to wrestle with Fat Jack but quickly learns she chose the wrong feline. He’d crush her in a minute. Oliver ignores her but Dash is fascinated by her. Skye sweetly rubs against Mango at meal times yet Savannah barely notices her. The dogs, however, look at me as if to say: Are you kidding me here? Another one? But they all get along.
So there you have it, friends. From here on out I’m strictly fostering. My adoption days are done. Kaput. Over. Yet somehow I think you doubt me. Just wait, this shall be the last time I ever say: Oops, I did it again.