Cop-a-Feline or Happy Feral?
There's no way of telling how many cats and kittens I've fostered over the years, but I am guessing that it's close to 400 at this point.
Since I've only kept two and a half, I'm doing well overall!
Today my six kittens went up for adoption at Catapalooza. A very generically Seattle cat festival name. I think that next year it should be called either Itty Bitty Kitty Committee or Cop-a-Feline.
Five of my six kittens found their forever homes. Miss Manners went with Roverella, Babycakes and Lila are pairbonded , Sir Galahad went to a home where another kitten has been waiting for a playmate. Sweet little Bugsy the gangster came home with me tonight. His forever home must be preparing an extra special place for him.
My house is perpetual kitten land...a good place for free therapy for some people...a good place for others to continually dig for buried treasure.
People often try to tell me what a good person I must be to foster these little ones. I continually insist that I get more out of the arrangement than they do. What is it that I do get out of this, though? Do I identify with their homeless state? I rarely mourn their adoption...rather, I celebrate their new life, happy that I was helpful to their start in the world. When do I find my forever home? Am I already there? Am I waiting to be chosen? Can I just be a happy feral?
Since I've only kept two and a half, I'm doing well overall!
Today my six kittens went up for adoption at Catapalooza. A very generically Seattle cat festival name. I think that next year it should be called either Itty Bitty Kitty Committee or Cop-a-Feline.
Five of my six kittens found their forever homes. Miss Manners went with Roverella, Babycakes and Lila are pairbonded , Sir Galahad went to a home where another kitten has been waiting for a playmate. Sweet little Bugsy the gangster came home with me tonight. His forever home must be preparing an extra special place for him.
My house is perpetual kitten land...a good place for free therapy for some people...a good place for others to continually dig for buried treasure.
People often try to tell me what a good person I must be to foster these little ones. I continually insist that I get more out of the arrangement than they do. What is it that I do get out of this, though? Do I identify with their homeless state? I rarely mourn their adoption...rather, I celebrate their new life, happy that I was helpful to their start in the world. When do I find my forever home? Am I already there? Am I waiting to be chosen? Can I just be a happy feral?