Part of animal rescue is accepting the good with the bad. But today was a downright shitty day. Waking up to authorizing the euthanasia of our darling "Tater Tot" brought my day to a standstill:
But with rescue, "standstill" isn't always possible. I drove out to meet another foster Mom and picked up our big ol' (former) Tom cat named "Manny". Apparently, a family at Petsmart fell in love with him and is willing to give him a FOREVER HOME. The Animal Services originally wanted to include this guy as part of their barn cat program citing that he wasn't adoptable. Boy, were they wrong! We called him Mr. Big Cheeks . It was a happy moment for me and for the foster Mom that took a chance on him.
Maybe it's the terrible weather today, but I've been unable to shake losing our Tater Tot. Even watching a happy family take Manny home today wasn't enough. I wish there had been a more definitive reason for him becoming so ill. The problem with experienced rescuers, is that we ALL think we're smarter than veterinarians sometimes and we second guess ourselves.
My oldest son is coming out tonight to pick up "his two cats": Parker and Butters. They've only ever lived with me, and I'm feeling nostalgic about letting them go with him. Will my son remember "Snack Time" at 9 pm? Will he scoop the litterbox? He adores these two cats and is 24 years old. I still feel uneasy and hope that those feelings will pass. Whenever my son visits us, Parker and Butters RUN to him. They adore him and it was the agreement when we adopted them: When my son moved out - he would take Parker and Butters.
Tomorrow will be a better day. (I wish I had a nickel for every time I ended a blog post with THAT statement!)