Cat adoptions aren’t nearly as exciting as dog adoptions.
Don’t get me wrong – it still feels great to save a cat, it’s just….different.
Cats don’t bound up to their potential adopter (or growl at them either). There’s no carefully orchestrated meeting or a walk with a potential fur-sibling or even a question, really, about the outcome.
I know everyone says that bunnies multiply like mad, but I’m beginning to think there’s also a multiplication factor with foster cats.
We’ve been plugging along with our three foster kitties Cleo, Bonnie & Clyde, enjoying their company and helping them to accept that humans are a good thing. Cleo and Clyde are definitely firmly in our camp now, and Bonnie is edging closer every day. They are ready to start finding forever homes very soon.
Otis truly enjoyed playing with all of them, especially Bonnie through the crate walls, but as the weather has cooled off, we moved them out to our sun porch/storage unit. Someday that space will hopefully be a place to read and have morning tea or grow plants or watch the sun set on the mountains just over the top or the town, but right now it is stacked with bins of all the stuff that will go in our kitchen (if we ever have a real kitchen—cabinet delivery has now been set for December 9!). There’s a defunct gas heater out there and some decidedly out-of-date carpet, plus super cheapo windows (according to Nick) that barely open. The window issue has meant that all summer it’s been a sauna out there and we’ve kept the door firmly shut.
As nothing has changed with my foster dogs…Daisy B and Flannery O’Connor remain here with no applications, I thought I might catch you up on the cat story that began when we purchased a small, run-down cabin in the mountains of Virginia.
This has been a dream of ours for decades. We spend several weekends a year in or near the Shenandoah Valley and mountains and have come to regard it as our future home. The hiking, the vistas, the wineries, the quiet, the river, the mountains, the quaint little towns that seem frozen in time – it all speaks to my heart.
I said you wouldn’t hear from me while I am on ‘sabbatical’ in Virginia, but apparently, that isn’t true.
I came here to hike and work on our future home and write and read the stacks of books I brought with me; I didn’t come here to rescue animals. I planned to scrub and build and repair and plant, but instead, I find myself once again, up to my neck in rescuing animals.
I wrote a really nice post for today. It’s positive and uplifting and all about how I spent the weekend choosing grace over irritation in response to a pile of unexpected (and unwanted) situations. I’ll probably post that one on Thursday because in addition to my Pollyanna dribble, there’s some good stories on Gala, the coolest foster dog we’ve had in some time. (No offense to some of the other amazing dogs we’ve had – she’s just simply the ‘cool kid’ and we are totally enjoying her.)
I’m having trouble posting my intended post because since I finished it, I received some truly awful news. News that has my heart aching and my head distracted. (Fair warning: this is not a fun post; feel free to skip to Thursday. That’ll be much more uplifting. Promise.)Continue reading “I Hate This….”→