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.
I’m writing this awfully close to the 11th hour before posting so I really procrastinated on this one. Do you want to hear my excuse? You do? Well, I’m sorry but I simply don’t have time to go into that right now. The pressure’s on so I’ll jump right in.
A couple weeks ago I wrote about my introduction to wearing contacts. But Kaiser Permanente was out of the ones I need. Therefore, I went home with enough for just 4 days until more arrive, whenever that will be. So I had to decide which precious 4 days I wanted to wear contacts. Decisions, decisions.
I waited a couple days and in the interim I forgot the trick for putting contacts onto my eyeballs. I’m fairly sure there’s a trick to it. And I also forgot which way the contact should sit on my finger to show it’s not inverted and therefore might feel like sand embedded in my cornea. To tell the truth, it looked the same to me no matter how I flipped it.
When one has 5 cats, 4 dogs and an array of rotating foster kittens, one can expect constant activity, except maybe in the wee hours of the night. And sometimes not even then when one particular dog snores like an inebriated sailor cursed with sleep apnea.
Now don’t get me wrong. Skip’s snoring is actually kind of endearing. But how such a small mutt creates so much noise is baffling. Being an insomniac with 2 functioning ears, I can attest he is loud.
That’s when I started thinking of how one of these days it might be nice to sleep 8 hours instead of my usual 5. And I thought, what would life be like without my animals? Well, the dam burst and within mere minutes these 17 thoughts poured out of me.
So here’s the situation. It’s 8:00 p.m. on Saturday night. I just spent the day cleaning my garage. Loads of fun. I’m grimy, dusty and full of chili because after I spent the day cleaning my garage I made a pot of veggie chili. Then I made macaroni noodles to put the chili on because that’s how my ex’s family did it in Kansas City. So since 1982, when we married, that’s how I’ve eaten it and now I can’t eat naked chili.
Anyway, now I’m stuffed. I also fed my animal crew and my foster cat, all of whom I assume are stuffed as well. My foster cat is nameless because I don’t permanently name them until I know they’ll be adoptable. I foster feral kittens and semi-feral cats. For some reason it’s harder for me to have to relocate them to outdoor homes (if they’re too feral to be adopted) after I’ve named them. Weird, huh?
So when I enter the room in which I’m housing a big orange tabby female, I say ‘Hey Boo Boo.” No reaction. Sometimes I say, “Hey Monkey.” But again, no response. I’ll try on a bunch of names during the time I’m fostering but once I realize that cat or kitten will be adoptable, a name will suddenly hit me and that’s the one that sticks.
Many moons ago, Jim, my ex-hubby and I had an old TV antenna on our roof, left by the previous homeowners. It was a huge metal eyesore, not connected to anything but the chimney, I suppose for support. Why it was still there? What purpose did it serve? Here’s my theory…
I believe that antenna’s sole purpose was to emit some sort of vibration recognized only by the dogs of Marin County. When they heard this silent emission, I envisioned German Shepherds jumping their backyard fences and Beagles leaping out open windows all in search of our front porch. I tell ya, if there was a stray dog within a mile, it seemed to end up at our house.
Now don’t get me wrong; not only did strays wander into our yard but I also spotted them (and still do) while driving about town. Knowing I’m an animal lover, Jim was convinced I enticed them with treats hidden in my car trunk or some such nonsense. I would never do that. I prefer to keep all treats in the glove compartment. Continue reading →