Note: This is a blog post from an exhausted animal rescuer. If you're squeamish about profanity or easily offended, please don't read any further...
I don't know where to start. Last week was awful, so was really looking forward to the "rescue rollercoaster" coasting for a little bit this weekend..just a little bit, damn it.
Instead, our beautiful kitten "Cohen" died on Friday night from something unknown and I understandably had a grieving foster Mom on Saturday morning. I never get used to consoling foster parents. Hearing them cry...It hurts so much as I know how they feel. Having to make "the call"...their cheery voice answering the phone with an excited and hopeful "HELLO?" My voice sounding sad, and hopeless, "I don't have good news..."
I wonder how many of these calls I've made over the years? Saturday was a banner shit day and continued...
We rescued a darling 5 month old kitten named "Bella" last week. Her foster Mom contacted me on Saturday to say that Bella wasn't doing well. It sounded like URI to me. No biggie. Been there. Done that. But Bella's foster Mom said something was different, and I decided to go with her intuition and get the kitten into the vets. Twelve minutes later, the foster Mom calls me back. She found a dead fetus on the floor. How is that possible? Five months old...
...the story continues... the vet performed an emergency cesarean section and finds another fetus stuck in the birth canal, and SIX more kittens in the womb. That 5 month old kitten was carrying EIGHT kittens.
...She died this morning. Twenty four hours after her cesarean section - she joined her 8 kittens.
F*ck the people that didn't care enough to get her spayed.
I rescued 2 cats for a new foster family on Wednesday. By yesterday morning, they decided they "couldn't handle it" and wanted me to pick them up. One cat was sick with URI, so I'm syringe feeding her until she can go to the vets on Monday. The other I drove into Toronto tonight to meet with an emergency foster home.
I thought I explain everything. Upper Respiratory Infections...pills...running noses.. drooling...
We have one cat at the vet with probable fatty liver. He hasn't eaten on his own in a week, so I think I'll bring him home with me tomorrow to continue the medical care and take the newly sick girl in for a trade tomorrow.
I feel really alone. David isn't happy with me since I spent all weekend on the phone with various emergencies. He said he was tired and annoyed of hearing "one sided conversations". Our Saturday date night was filled with phone calls from terrified foster parents and veterinary offices while I struggled to make small talk with David over antipasto at our favourite Italian place. My eyes and lips kept telling him that I was sorry. He understood. Certainly he knew who I was when he married me.
The emergencies were real and I wouldn't want people to NOT call me. It's what I do. It's what I signed up for when I started this rescue. It's just a drag that it all happened in one eff'ing 2 day period. I don't want anyone to EVER feel badly about calling me with a problem or concern.
The REALLY sad part? We had FIVE adoptions this weekend and I've been too busy and stressed to wallow in the glory. Five little souls went to their Forever Homes thanks to loving foster parents who cared enough to save their lives.
Thanks for listening to me wallow in my own self pity. I feel better typing it all out. In fact, I feel much better and capable of looking towards tomorrow. I'll face whatever happens - I'll be ok. We'll all be OK.