Don't Grieve Admiral, It Is Logical...
I went and visited the kittens on lunch. Apparently Miss Mona is just the star of the show there right now. Super friendly, climbing on people's laps and such. I think she'd heard my voice when I first came in because she was standing in the little hallway right inside the cat room door, with her ears perked up as I talked to the woman behind the counter.
I don't remember her name but she knew me when I walked in and was briefly talking to me. Commenting on how Miss Mona was apparently jumping up on the owner's husband's lap the night before when they stopped in. I'd paid for the reservation, which was no big deal to me, but she was telling me I shouldn't have done that. And then she let me in the room 15 minutes before my reservation, since Miss Mona was right there.
She was visibly happy to see me and was meowing a bit. There were two young fags in there when I came in and no one else. They almost looked like they were on a date. I was petting Miss Mona and the one was looking over and I just commented that we'd been fostering them and had just brought her and her sister in Sunday.
Doralee was no where to be seen initially, but when I walked to the other side of the room with Miss Mona in tow, Doralee must have heard my voice and came right out. Apparently she hasn't been adjusting so well and had been hiding all morning. The woman who sits in the room and monitors things was surprised to see her come out, as she didn't know what she looked like. Then she asked me to put a collar on her to help differentiate her from the other tabbies in there. Though, in my humble opinion, she looks nothing like the other tabbies in there.
I felt bad doing it, since it is just one more new thing for the poor girl to have to adjust to. And it also looked like she had an eye infection, which we heard on Sunday was going around the room. This made me feel even more guilty about having left them there.
I booked the 1:00 session because there were no other people with reservations in that slot, but these two old ladies did a walk-in and came to sit in for the rest of my time there, but they were very nice.
I pretty much spent most of the time just playing with the two girls, though some of the other cats came around and I am sure by now some must recognize me. I feel bad that there are some that have been there for a few months, when we brought these two new ones in that could potentially go first, and prevent some of the others from finding a home.
As if my pent up emotions and such from the weekend weren't bad enough, they were playing pretty much every sad, melancholy Christmas song one could think of over the speakers. One particular non-Christmas song that came on, 'Hallelujah' had me near tears sitting in there. That song is just too much for me.
Right before the session ended, the owner came in from running errands and she was right outside the door as I came out behind the two old ladies. The minute she saw me I could not hold back a few sobs as I asked her how they were doing. So embarrassing. She said it was perfectly normal and that the fosters and girls that work there do the same thing all the time. But she said the kittens were doing well.
As we were talking we stood in front of the picture windows that look into the cat room. Miss Mona saw me and with just a few taps on the glass she came running, jumped up on a chair in there and then onto the shelf on the other side of the window. This amazed all the ladies in there, which I found comical and made me feel special all the same. I was eventually able to get Doralee to do the same.
It was no big trick really, since the girls used to come to all the windows in the back garage to watch me as I fed the birds every morning. They both had a bit of a sad look in their eyes as I was standing there with my coat on.
I know they are being taken care of well there, for the most part. There is one other cat who was batting at poor Doralee Sunday and then today when I was there. And her eye infection concerns me, though when I pointed it out to the owner she said she would get right on cleaning the eye out and making sure it was okay.
I wish we could have kept the two of them, but it was just impossible. We have five cats already. And even if Apollo passes away soon, six cats is a lot. Plus the fact that the kittens seemed to upset and terrify Neelix and Seven. I don't know why, but they are just jealous and crazy about other cats. Maybe we could have resolved that eventually. People do do it.
I feel like, if months and months go by and they aren't adopted, perhaps we could revisit the idea but we can't just keep every cat we find. I think the issue is we just were fostering them for so long that attachment developed. And I thought I'd be okay with letting them go, but I just have concerns about who might adopt them. I know if we took them in, they would have the best life a cat could possibly have. I can't trust that anyone else can do that for them. I know such people exist, but I just don't trust people.
I am hoping my presence today at least helped Doralee feel a little better, knowing she wasn't just abandoned there. When Gayle took one of the kittens from Dr. Skirt's litter I thought maybe he'd remember us the first time we saw him again. But it was over a year later I think and he didn't seem to. It felt very good, even though it's only been two days, that when I walked in there the girls knew exactly who I was. It gave me a great bit of comfort, which I desperately needed with everything else going on.
I think with how personable Miss Mona is, there is a fair chance they will get adopted quickly. As long as the adopter is willing to get two at once since they *have* to be adopted together. And Doralee has a fine personality, I just think the stress of being in the cafe is a bit much for her. I suppose we should have done more to get them used to other cats. I could tell in there that her self-confidence was just very low. It only seemed to perk up when I appeared. But, as I watched through the window inside the cafe portion, talking to the owner, I saw that one cat come by her and bat at her. And I could see on her little face the fear and confusion, as she had done nothing.
We will probably go back there Thursday after the Sparrow gets home from work. Actually, come to think of it, I should probably drive him to work Thursday just so we can go straight there since I think they close at 7.
When I was in with the old ladies, I was talking to them about how we'd fostered the two girls and what not, and the one made a comment about what wonderful people we were to do such a thing. It reminded me of how I am unable to take compliments, especially when someone suggests in the compliment that I am some kind of "good" person.
It makes me wonder what my real motivations are with doing this cat fostering thing, helping the rescue, doing the cards to the elderly etc etc. Am I a good person, or am I just trying to make amends because I think I am a bad person? This ties all the way back to my family and my childhood, where somewhere along the line it was engrained pretty deeply in me that I was a failure and a disappointment. Sentiments echoed throughout the years into my teens and adulthood, at various times by both my parents, who seemingly had no concept of how such comments could affect the lives of their children for years.
Am I a "good" person for me, or am I trying to fix something they broke a long time ago? Does it matter when doing a good deed? Can I be a good person without it being about making up for some sin or slight?
I was feeling very good about some of the things I was doing, but I feel like the toxicity of the last few weeks has just taken its toll on me. Almost as if a person is not allowed to feel good for too long. The balance of the universe dictates that the pendulum swings in the other direction eventually. Does doing "good" even get you anywhere?
Actually, I heard recently that doing good deeds and charity work etc actually causes a chemical reaction in the human brain that is good for one's health and vitality. I found that fascinating from a spiritual perspective, considering we were essentially programmed to benefit from acts of kindness. But are acts of kindness more powerful than decades of trauma that leaves one's brain floating in a toxic soup?
I don't remember her name but she knew me when I walked in and was briefly talking to me. Commenting on how Miss Mona was apparently jumping up on the owner's husband's lap the night before when they stopped in. I'd paid for the reservation, which was no big deal to me, but she was telling me I shouldn't have done that. And then she let me in the room 15 minutes before my reservation, since Miss Mona was right there.
She was visibly happy to see me and was meowing a bit. There were two young fags in there when I came in and no one else. They almost looked like they were on a date. I was petting Miss Mona and the one was looking over and I just commented that we'd been fostering them and had just brought her and her sister in Sunday.
Doralee was no where to be seen initially, but when I walked to the other side of the room with Miss Mona in tow, Doralee must have heard my voice and came right out. Apparently she hasn't been adjusting so well and had been hiding all morning. The woman who sits in the room and monitors things was surprised to see her come out, as she didn't know what she looked like. Then she asked me to put a collar on her to help differentiate her from the other tabbies in there. Though, in my humble opinion, she looks nothing like the other tabbies in there.
I felt bad doing it, since it is just one more new thing for the poor girl to have to adjust to. And it also looked like she had an eye infection, which we heard on Sunday was going around the room. This made me feel even more guilty about having left them there.
I booked the 1:00 session because there were no other people with reservations in that slot, but these two old ladies did a walk-in and came to sit in for the rest of my time there, but they were very nice.
I pretty much spent most of the time just playing with the two girls, though some of the other cats came around and I am sure by now some must recognize me. I feel bad that there are some that have been there for a few months, when we brought these two new ones in that could potentially go first, and prevent some of the others from finding a home.
As if my pent up emotions and such from the weekend weren't bad enough, they were playing pretty much every sad, melancholy Christmas song one could think of over the speakers. One particular non-Christmas song that came on, 'Hallelujah' had me near tears sitting in there. That song is just too much for me.
Right before the session ended, the owner came in from running errands and she was right outside the door as I came out behind the two old ladies. The minute she saw me I could not hold back a few sobs as I asked her how they were doing. So embarrassing. She said it was perfectly normal and that the fosters and girls that work there do the same thing all the time. But she said the kittens were doing well.
As we were talking we stood in front of the picture windows that look into the cat room. Miss Mona saw me and with just a few taps on the glass she came running, jumped up on a chair in there and then onto the shelf on the other side of the window. This amazed all the ladies in there, which I found comical and made me feel special all the same. I was eventually able to get Doralee to do the same.
It was no big trick really, since the girls used to come to all the windows in the back garage to watch me as I fed the birds every morning. They both had a bit of a sad look in their eyes as I was standing there with my coat on.
I know they are being taken care of well there, for the most part. There is one other cat who was batting at poor Doralee Sunday and then today when I was there. And her eye infection concerns me, though when I pointed it out to the owner she said she would get right on cleaning the eye out and making sure it was okay.
I wish we could have kept the two of them, but it was just impossible. We have five cats already. And even if Apollo passes away soon, six cats is a lot. Plus the fact that the kittens seemed to upset and terrify Neelix and Seven. I don't know why, but they are just jealous and crazy about other cats. Maybe we could have resolved that eventually. People do do it.
I feel like, if months and months go by and they aren't adopted, perhaps we could revisit the idea but we can't just keep every cat we find. I think the issue is we just were fostering them for so long that attachment developed. And I thought I'd be okay with letting them go, but I just have concerns about who might adopt them. I know if we took them in, they would have the best life a cat could possibly have. I can't trust that anyone else can do that for them. I know such people exist, but I just don't trust people.
I am hoping my presence today at least helped Doralee feel a little better, knowing she wasn't just abandoned there. When Gayle took one of the kittens from Dr. Skirt's litter I thought maybe he'd remember us the first time we saw him again. But it was over a year later I think and he didn't seem to. It felt very good, even though it's only been two days, that when I walked in there the girls knew exactly who I was. It gave me a great bit of comfort, which I desperately needed with everything else going on.
I think with how personable Miss Mona is, there is a fair chance they will get adopted quickly. As long as the adopter is willing to get two at once since they *have* to be adopted together. And Doralee has a fine personality, I just think the stress of being in the cafe is a bit much for her. I suppose we should have done more to get them used to other cats. I could tell in there that her self-confidence was just very low. It only seemed to perk up when I appeared. But, as I watched through the window inside the cafe portion, talking to the owner, I saw that one cat come by her and bat at her. And I could see on her little face the fear and confusion, as she had done nothing.
We will probably go back there Thursday after the Sparrow gets home from work. Actually, come to think of it, I should probably drive him to work Thursday just so we can go straight there since I think they close at 7.
When I was in with the old ladies, I was talking to them about how we'd fostered the two girls and what not, and the one made a comment about what wonderful people we were to do such a thing. It reminded me of how I am unable to take compliments, especially when someone suggests in the compliment that I am some kind of "good" person.
It makes me wonder what my real motivations are with doing this cat fostering thing, helping the rescue, doing the cards to the elderly etc etc. Am I a good person, or am I just trying to make amends because I think I am a bad person? This ties all the way back to my family and my childhood, where somewhere along the line it was engrained pretty deeply in me that I was a failure and a disappointment. Sentiments echoed throughout the years into my teens and adulthood, at various times by both my parents, who seemingly had no concept of how such comments could affect the lives of their children for years.
Am I a "good" person for me, or am I trying to fix something they broke a long time ago? Does it matter when doing a good deed? Can I be a good person without it being about making up for some sin or slight?
I was feeling very good about some of the things I was doing, but I feel like the toxicity of the last few weeks has just taken its toll on me. Almost as if a person is not allowed to feel good for too long. The balance of the universe dictates that the pendulum swings in the other direction eventually. Does doing "good" even get you anywhere?
Actually, I heard recently that doing good deeds and charity work etc actually causes a chemical reaction in the human brain that is good for one's health and vitality. I found that fascinating from a spiritual perspective, considering we were essentially programmed to benefit from acts of kindness. But are acts of kindness more powerful than decades of trauma that leaves one's brain floating in a toxic soup?