Last night I received a call from another rescue who needed some help with transport of 4 cats from the shelter. Although I'm very busy with my own rescue, I hate the idea of 4 cats sitting in cages when they could be safe in foster homes.
At the same time, I received a Facebook message from a friend who was interested in a very handsome big-headed tomcat at the shelter named "Simon".
Ahhhhh....now I have FIVE good reasons to go to the shelter!
I practically skipped into the building knowing that I had an opportunity to meet and greet a big ol' tomcat. I love those guys. They're hard to get out of the shelter sometimes. Somehow, foster parents often equate tom cats with spraying.
But I was too late....
My heart sank when I found that Simon had been killed only a few hours before I arrived. I put up with so much emotional shit when I go into that shelter, but THIS is the one thing that drives me crazy more than anything else. I had a probable home for this guy. He was so sweet. I was The Governor and I missed the execution. I hate it. I hate it.
With a heavy heart, I drove the 4 rescued cats to a predetermined vet clinic. I tried so hard to be happy for them.
This afternoon, I had a VERY sweet young woman come to meet my foster kitten "Bradley". She's going to pick him up on Friday night and take him home. She has a female cat and it's unknown how she'll react to Bradley. But "Brad" is a pretty happy-go-lucky fella and not much hurts his feelings: