Cats! Don't like them? That's fine, don't read this, but mostly, please don't hurt them. Evil humans are the cause of issues with outdoor cats. I know it's normal in some countries. How many cats have you lost because you've let your cat out and it got hit, poisoned, or just never came back at all? And every, please SPAY AND NEUTER your pets! Do your part! Be responsible! ~SD~
Suddenly six pound and a half balls of fluff came skittering and tumbling across the floor. A black and black tuxedo and white kitten could not stop, slid into our feet and barrel-rolled right over top. The two calico's and a tiger jumped on each other like they were in a barroom brawl, and the ginger-colored runt was shoved aside no matter where he went. I picked him up and cuddled him.
"Kittens!" my date exclaimed, horrified as one began started to scramble up his pant leg. He looked around as though looking for a place to escape.
Another guy to ditch. Love me, love my foster kitties. Although I'm thirty-five, I'm not desperate for a man. I support myself well, but can't say that loneliness does not hit on occasion.
I pulled the kitten off his leg and said, "Maybe we'll do this another time. Make sure you get out the door quickly, I don't you to let the kittens out."
The look on his face was priceless because I had dismissed him so quickly, but I was already rolling a jingling ball across the floor and watching all six scamper after it.
I began fostering when I realized how many were killed within twenty-four hours in shelters, due to no space or they were just too young to adopt out. Euthanasia quickl took care of their problems.
I learned there were more abandoned adult dogs and cats because their owners no longer wanted them because they were old, they had a baby coming and would be on to other interests, or any number of lame excuses people use when they bring their pet to a shelter.
And when I discovered that too many people were out and out idiots that did not spay and neuter their pets, I knew I had to try to do something about it.
Starting my own small rescue wasn't easy. I searched out volunteers that would help me trap and foster those we caught. I went to many animal clinics until I found one that would work with me on low-cost spaying and neutering the kittens and cats that we trapped. After that, it was finding pet stores, veterinarian's offices, or anywhere would be seen so we could place them for adoption.
I started small and only took in a few at a time. As I added volunteers, I could take in more felines. By far we got in more kittens. Kittens wandered into the traps and Mom usually followed her nursing kittens. But once they were past weaning age, Mom was more wily.
When we did trap a cat that wasn't friendly, they would get spayed or neutered and I could look on a local list for farms, factories, and other businesses that wanted cats to eradicate rodents. It was a win-win. Cat could live on its own terms, easily find food, and the adopters did not have to worry about rodents on their premises. The only thing they had to promise was to never use any poison for pest control because if a cat eats a mouse that ate the poison, it would likely die as well. Either use a cat or poison, not both.
The next morning my volunteer trapper Max was at my door with two kittens and a caramel latte. The first thing I did was take a sip of the steaming hot latte.
"You're spoiling me, Max. Not to mention making me fat," I said, still continuing to sip the shot of caffeine that I was going to need after checking the kittens he brought.
Max is younger, and a big burly sort of guy that loves nothing more than to have a bunch of kittens on his chest. Can you say chick magnet, I chuckled to myself. So I was very grateful when he could take time off of his motorcycle sales and repair business to volunteer. The dark beard and perennial lock of hair over his eye made him bad-boy handsome.
He flashed white teeth in an ornery grin. "You?! Fat? Never." He frowned. "I hope you don't really feel that way about yourself. I've read about women that worry so much that they have eating disorders."
"Nah, I'm too old to worry that much about my weight, but I never did anyhow. I try to watch what I eat but don't obsess."
Truth be told I used to obsess when I was much younger. I always carried a few extra pounds in the way of thirty-four C breasts, wide hips, and butt to go with them. All in all I was, as they say, proportioned.
"Good, I hope not." He still had look on his face as though trying to decide if I was truthful or not, then added, "Old." He frowned again and shook his head. "Ridiculous."
I drained my latte and said, "Let's see what little muffins you brought me today."
I pulled out a tiny kitten that was so filthy it was hard to say if it was white or gray. Sad bright blue eyes peered out of her dirt crusted face.
I found its sibling to be an equally disturbing mess. And sadly the long hair tiger-striped kitten was matted and just as much of a mess.
"I set a trap this morning and an hour later these guys were in wolfing down the food. It didn't even faze them when I put them in the car."
"Poor little things."
Max often helped me and it went quickly. I washed and removed as many fleas as I could, then Max would dry and pick through the fur for the rest. Then I gave them a once over, flushed their eyes of whatever icky was still there, ear clean and put them in the dryer box. I picked up my phone that held the before and after pictures.
Max needed to get back to his shop and I had to get back to reading manuscripts. As an editor, I could read any time, anywhere, something my long time with the published was happy to give me.
The door closed behind him, then opened again and he stuck his head back in. "Hey, how was your date?"
I rolled my eyes. "Don't ask!" He grinned and was gone.
After the new kittens were thoroughly dry, I had a few last-minute things to do for them before I took them to their foster.
"Here's your new cuties!" I said holding up the carrier when Francine opened the door.
"Yay! It's always like Christmas when you bring me kitties."
She peered into the door of the carrier. "Oh my god," she whispered. "So adorable." I laughed because we all say that about every kitty we get.
She had a small clear plastic-sided playpen set up in the corner of her living room and took them over and got them all situated.
"No offense Emily but I was hoping Max would drop them off. I may be his granny's age, but I can still look," she laughed.
I grinned. "I hear you. You should see him when he is at an adoption event. He could adopt them an alligator and they wouldn't care." We laughed.
Through donations we did not have to purchase food or litter. So many people that might not be able to afford to volunteer, could foster simply because there was no money out of their pocket. Since Francine was retired, the donations allowed her to help us at no cost to her. She claimed fostering gave her a new purpose after retirement.
I stretched out on my sofa and began to read the latest manuscript, just one of many on the pile. Several hours and a book and a half behind me, my phone dinged. I saw it was Max, surprised because he usually contacted me early after trapping.
hey em what r u doing
