my current and past family pets
You know how I’m always saying it’s meant to be? No? Well then it’s clear you don’t read my blog enough. That’s okay, I forgive you. People get busy, things come up…anyway, trust me here. My motto is:
So here’s the thing: Recently I thought I’d be adopting another dog until his previous owner changed her mind and reclaimed Charlie.
Charlie
Shortly afterward, I fostered another cat. Nothing new there, right? He was foster #107.
I’ve been thinking of doing something really stupid so somebody needs to stop me before I actually do it. You’re probably going to think I’m off my rocker and yes, I probably am. There. I admit it. So don’t hate me when I tell you I’m thinking of adopting another dog.
I know, I know. I’m perfectly aware that I already have 3 dogs, the Marin County limit, and 3 cats, so adding another to the mix makes no sense, right? But what can I say? I think in some way my pets actually choose me instead of the other way around.
Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying when I first saw my current pets they pointed a paw in my direction and said pick me, pick me! That would be awesome, but no. It’s more like I’m drawn to them by an unspoken vibe. Next thing I know, I’m driving home with something furry in the seat beside me.
Hey you. Yeah you. You’re mine so get over here
I just received my 105th feral foster kitten. I know, crazy, huh? Before I started Marin Friends of Ferals in 2009, I was mostly a dog person. Now don’t get me wrong; I love all animals. But dogs were more my cuppa tea. Or so I thought.
In 2005 I noticed a large colony of unaltered, hungry feral cats on a hillside. I thought — Hey, someone should do something about that. Then I realized I was that someone. So I learned to trap these often nocturnal animals to have them altered and vaccinated.
I’m here to tell ya, this work generally means crawling through bushes, shimmying under decks, wading through creeks, venturing into drainage pipes — all mostly at night by flashlight. In other words, I was made for this. Continue reading
So Wednesday morning I’m on the freeway bringing kittens to get spayed and neutered at a local veterinary clinic. Naturally, I’m late because the freeway is a parking lot. 
In the back of my SUV, 7 of the 11 kittens we rescued from Kern County are serenading me with a chorus of meows.
What lucky kitties. Our feral cat rescue rarely deals with domestics but when we learned these were scheduled to be euthanized for lack of adopters, we decided to help. And that’s how I found myself on the freeway Wednesday morning. Continue reading
It’s 7:00 a.m.
Savannah’s nudging my arm with her cheek as if to say, Hey you, I’m awake. How about you? Pet me, pet me, pet me, pet me. So I do.
She rubs her body along my side before nuzzling my chin. Then she bites me on the cheek. Good morning to you too. Continue reading
Now Don't Get Me Wrong 