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.
Now don’t get me wrong; what I’m about to say may give the impression I don’t adore my 10 pets, all rescues. Yes, they, like humans, are uniquely flawed beings. But accepting flaws are part of any relationship, right? We take the good with the bad. Besides, I’ve determined I was meant to have each of these critters because certain aspects of their not-so-endearing qualities might not be tolerated by some.
My cat with an amputated tail, Savannah, is determined to put me in traction. When it’s time to eat, she’s like a magnet and my legs are metal. She zig zags between them like a slalom skier. Everyday I warn her she’s going to trip me but she pretends not to hear. No doubt one day I’ll be sporting a cast on a body part. But Savannah is the sweetest, gentlest of souls. Not a mean bone in that body.
Wally, my Dachshund mix, barks incessantly whenever someone walks by the house while he’s positioned on the back of the sofa with a perfect view. He’s still not entirely house-trained, even though I pretend I’ve won the lottery whenever he uses the dog door and returns triumphantly, having just relieved himself. Apparently, however, my enthusiasm doesn’t persuade him to use it on a regular basis. But Wally, like one of those poor circus bears, sits up with arms elevated when he wants my attention. It’s endearing and he knows it.
Did you have a happy Thanksgiving? Personally, I had a selfish one and enjoyed every minute of it. Yes, I opted to spend Thanksgiving alone, if you don’t count my 10 pets. Now don’t get me wrong; I realize I sound uncaring saying that about a day when we gather to celebrate who and what we are most thankful for. And I passed. Shame on me, right?
I’m busy. You’re busy. Everyone’s busy. And for me to get a day where I don’t have to leave the house is essentially nonexistent. Pretty much daily I either trap feral cats, visit properties to re-home them, receive calls, texts and emails about them, or take them to and from the vet. Ferals, ferals, ferals…
I had a confetti-filled homecoming last night; my house was TP’ed with a mega roll of Charmin Ultra Soft toilet paper. I know this because I bought the paper myself. You see, the scene of the crime took place inside my home.
Upon walking through the door, I spotted the evidence strewn about like mounds of paper snow. I immediately suspected the culprit was my border collie mix, Callie. She’s a chewer and she bores easily – two rather unfortunate traits in a canine. Continue reading →
So last week you learned 5 of my pets have quirky ways. Who doesn’t, right? But that’s only half of it. There’s still 5 more of my crew who are no less quirky than the others. Trust me here. For instance…
Fat Jack is a perfect example of a dichotomy. On the one hand he’s a lover boy and on the other he’s Mr. Hyde from Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The boy has a hint of evil just below the surface and it emerges precisely when he’s being Mr. Lover Boy.
You see, Jack enjoys grooming my other cats. He’ll snuggle beside someone and begin licking with his painfully rough sandpaper tongue. But it must feel good because they let him. He licks around the head and face, their eyes closed, basking in his tongue massage and all’s well with the world. For about 3 minutes.
Then out of nowhere Mr. Hyde appears. Jack attempts to mount whichever cat, male or female (he’s not picky). He quickly becomes overstimulated and starts neck biting like a vampire. Next thing I hear are cries of discomfort so I shoo Jack away. Now don’t get me wrong; they still come back for more so I can only surmise the pleasure is worth the pain.