What time is it? What day is it? Where am I? Who am I? Ohhhh…right, I’m the insane chick that decided to adopt two kittens. My house is filled with the jingling of collar bells and the yowls of two pint sized Atilas.
It started off so innocently…a quick trip to the vet to refill our dogs’ medications:
Buddy, the Bernese, is on pills for his arthritis. Kaleb is thyroid and a collapsing trachea (which sounds terrible, but is common for older dogs and just means that he coughs a lot). While at the vet, I happen to notice a flyer saying that a kitten had been surrendered to “our vet.” Now, having been taught that there are no stupid questions and seeking clarification on who is the “our” I ask.
The next thing I know, I’m staring into the eyes of this little man:
We promptly adopt him, and head home where–as you can see–he enjoys an organic and fresh vegetarian diet. That was Wednesday. By Thursday, my husband is looking at me with those hypnotic blue eyes and saying, “Darling, don’t you want another one?” Then he hits me with all sorts of common sense logic–that the longer Augustus is by himself, the more territorial he’ll get; that Kaleb doesn’t understand kitten play and Gus’s overtures are freaking him out…so, we headed to Petsmart who houses cats from rescue charities (as opposed to buying cats from breeders, then selling them), but we found no kittens close to Gus’s age.
Angie, the absolute gem of a salesgirl, told us to come back today, because they’d have kittens from SNAP (Spay Neuter Action Program). At first, I agreed. Then, I remembered “oh, yeah. It’s me.” There’s no way in God’s green earth, I will ever be able to walk into a shop and pick a cat. Just the visit to the pet store left me in shambles (a lot of their cats resembled our guys, Smokey and Peachy, who both passed away within the last two years. Peachy was 19, and Smokey was 21).
So, some web surfing and I came to the McDonald Family Rescue. A visit to the foster home (and who ever decided that stray animals should be fostered instead of kenneled, you deserve a prize. What a great way to socialize animals, get them used to humans, other animals, etc. Having said that, thank you Humane Society for all you do. It’s not an easy job, is it?)
Enter Remus into our lives:
He’s two weeks younger than Gus, and has grey and white fur–with a patch of white on the tip of his tail. Whereas Gus will only purr when he’s damn good and ready, Remus purrs as soon as you touch him. Gus tears around the house like his tail’s on fire, Remus saunters.
They’re both in the getting to know you phase with each other, and last night we were treated to a cacophony of yowls, growls and hissing. When we all went to bed, they decided to use our heads as spring boards. I, also using my head, kept it buried under two thick duvets. My husband on the other hand, now sports a jaunty scratch mark on his cheek.
I could post more, but thank God, my little monsters have fallen asleep with help provigil modafinil . And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s when your kids are sleep with help provigil modafinil ing, you sleep with help provigil modafinil …will post more photos and stories (like when Gus, who was using the litter box spied Remus walking by. Gus launched himself at his brother–neglecting to remember that he was in the middle of a toilet. Guys, honest to God, he was in mid poop. He goes flying, the poop goes flying and I’m ducking and for the first time in my life, praying that if something hits me it’ll have claws and teeth, rather than being anything soft and warm)!
If you have time and space, consider opening your house to be a forever home for animals who desperately need some love, or think about being a foster home to some cats and dogs. There are quite a few agencies that will pay the costs incurred: vets, food, toys, etc. so all you have to do is provide a roof and some affection.
And if you do have animals, please let me encourage you to neuter or spay them. In Edmonton alone, we have over a million ferral cats, and that’s no way for a kitten to live.