LJI S11 Wk12 - Failure
I didn't mean to adopt Spot and Lucy. My girlfriend asked me to watch them for a few days while she talked her landlord into letting her have pets in her apartment, and...well...it was a ruse. She knew I'd fall in love with them.
I'd always had cats. I grew up with one, shared one with a roommate after college, and now these two mischievous kittens would be with me until...holy crap, until I was in my FORTIES! So, damn near forever.
Of course, time passed, the kittens grew up (and so did I) and grew old, and within a year of each other they both crossed the Rainbow Bridge to wherever it is kitties go. And the house felt empty.
It seemed appropriate to mourn. I didn't run out to get another cat right away. But before too long I missed having furry babies to snuggle on the couch. I missed the unmistakable, irreplaceable feline energy and I started to linger on pictures of cats my friends posted on facebook, and even the ones in "icanhascheezeburger" memes. And then I clicked over to our local cat rescue's website.
Laney and Shadow were "Spotlighted" on the front page, and I was immediately drawn to them. Fostering would be a great way to do a good thing, and have cats back in my life without making a major commitment. They'd live with us for a little while, then get adopted, and then maybe we'd take on some new fosters. We'd get to meet lots of different cats that way and enjoy them all!
First I had to talk my husband into it, which didn't take too much effort, then apply to be "foster parents." That done, the rescue's staff member actually suggested Shadow and Laney to me, which I took as a sign, and we happily brought them home. They settled in, quiet mellow cuddly kitties, and my house felt right again.
The trouble came the very first time someone wanted to meet Shadow to possibly adopt her. First of all, I was horrified that someone wanted to split up the sisters, but second...
"Hi, this is Robin - you called to say someone wanted to meet Shadow? What if...what if I wanted to adopt her? She and Laney both - how does that work?"
"As the foster you have first priority - if you want her that's wonderful. I'll let this couple know Shadow's not available. We have lots of other kitties for them to meet. I'll email you the adoption application, ok?"
I found out later this is called Foster Fail.
Laney crossed the Rainbow Bridge a couple of years ago, and Shadow seemed absolutely lost without her. We thought that would pass with time, but it never did, and eventually we thought that getting another cat might ease her loneliness.
First we fostered a huge fluffy adult cat who tried aggressively to play with Shadow-who hid under the bed in response-and we sent her back to the rescue after just a few days. Then came a pair of enormous "kittens" named Cricket and Bumblebee, who Shadow kept a cautious distance from. They left her alone too, and were fun to have around, but were quickly adopted. And then came Knit and Purl.
Knit was a bit shy, but Purl would run up to you - or literally UP you, using claws if necessary - and get right into your face, nose to nose and eye to eye. She was rarely still for more than a moment, and loved chasing balls, bottlecaps, bits of string - anything that moved. A terrycloth hair tie could drive her mad until she exhausted herself and passed out in a little furry ball.
And she CLIMBED things.
She climbed shelves. She climbed furniture. I found her on top of the kitchen cabinets once and to this day have no idea how she got there. Our house began to echo with the scolding refrain, "Purl, NO. Get DOWN!"
She would stand on shelves and furniture in order to reach the pictures on the walls. Sometimes she pulled them away from the wall to look behind them - what was she looking for? Narnia? - and other times stared intently into the glass as though it were a crystal ball. She'd jump up on doors to try to turn the doorknobs, and leap to scrabble up the walls, literally scaling doorframes. She was a terror.
Yet for some reason, when the rescue organization offered to waive the fee if we wanted to keep them - the pair had been with us six months and, as the rescue folks put it, "seemed to be doing well" - we said yes. First we asked each other if we were crazy, and agreed that we must be, but in the end we signed the papers.
Purl might be a terror, but apparently she's our terror (and her sister is an angel - I adore her). We couldn't possibly live with ourselves if we inflicted her unique brand of madness on some unsuspecting family.
Sometimes failing can feel pretty good.
