Thursday, July 6, 2017

Rescue Me

The smell almost knocks us over as we walk through the door. The kids begin to make gagging sounds and make bets about what could have made such a horrid smell. My eyes fill with tears both from the smell and from the knowledge that I'm going to be the one to have to deal with the mess. The awfulness gets worse the closer I move to my bedroom.  I'm not sure I want to open the door, but know I really have no choice. I say a silent prayer for a sudden stuffy nose and push the door open. It's worse than I thought. 

Scrappy, one of my newest foster kittens, has taken out his anger at me by leaving me "gifts" all over my bedroom, bathroom, and closet. He is what I call a "revenge pooper".  He doesn't want to be put away and never hesitates to let me know that. G put him in our foster room before we left, but the door is known for not latching correctly. I'm now kicking myself for not getting it fixed. 

After cleaning up Scrappy's Poo Party I skip dinner and head for the shower. While I'm in there I ask myself the same question I've been asked a million times: "Why do you foster kittens...it's so much work and you just give them back in the end?" 

I used to post quite a bit about my foster babies on social media. I quit because I was tired of all the "crazy cat lady" comments. While they were funny at first, they quickly took on judging tone. I didn't want to have to answer that Yes, I had another one, and Yes, I was getting up every two hours all night to bottle feed it, and Yes, I knew it was just a cat. 

To me it's more than caring for just a cat. It's a way for me to communicate with God. It's my way of praising Him for the amazing beings He takes the time to create. I firmly believe we are charged with being good stewards of all His creations. Nothing is too little or too insignificant for God so why should it be any different for me? 

Out of my current fosters these are the two babies that have caused me much worry and have absolutely stolen my heart. 

This is Berry: 



He was found still attached to his placenta outside a Walgreens. He weighed 3 oz when I got him. The shelter's foster coordinator estimated he was about 2 weeks premature. His sister, despite my very best effort, didn't survive. 

Here he is now:

 

He is spunky and spoiled rotten and I'm not sure that my heart will be able to give him up.   

This is Gus:

 

He was found alone at Southwestern University. We think he was about 2 weeks old and at the time weighed almost 12 oz.  He cried for his mom and siblings for days and seriously just about broke my heart. He drinks his bottle with his eyes closed and I always wonder if he's imagining that he's nursing from his mama.

I've only had him about 2 weeks, but here he is now: 

 
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I hope I'm always lucky enough to have a house full of kittens. It can be chaotic, messy, even a little overwhelming at times, but my heart is always full and laughter is never far. If you ever need a pick me up this crazy cat lady's door is always open. 

1 comment:

  1. You are so so sweet to those kitties. They are lucky to have you!

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