Only In The Summer

Sometimes I feel like I'm the only person in the world that could be stressed in the middle of a beautiful summer. It's really been a wonderful week - lots of adoptions, no complaints to speak of...so how could I be stressed?

D-- had gone into the shelter a few days ago and shared with me the number of adorable Mom cats that were there with their nursing babies - all marked for euthanasia the next morning. She mentioned one in particular that I couldn't get off my mind. She was wearing a red collar and had 5 beautiful kittens. There's something very upsetting to see an unwanted cat at the shelter wearing a collar. She was somebody's pet. They didn't care for her properly, she got pregnant, now they didn't want her.

Only in the summer does the visual of the shelter really plague my mind. I laid in bed a few nights ago thinking of the little Mom cats tucked into their cages for the night with their new babies suckling and warm. They didn't know there was an X on the front of their cage choosing them for death the next morning. I kept picturing the little Mom cat with the red collar. The shelter was going to kill her and her little family tomorrow and I couldn't stop it from happening.

I couldn't sleep. Midnight...1 a.m....2 a.m...I was still awake and getting angrier and angrier. I think it's wrong we get so angry at the shelter for killing these beautiful creatures. It isn't their fault. We KNOW that. But I want to blame something tangible.

By the time I woke up at 9 a.m., I knew it was all over. They euthanize the animals before the shelter is open to the public. We wouldn't want to upset the public.

Only in the Summer does it get this bad for me. I'm leaving on vacation tomorrow and thinking about that little Mom cat with the red collar. I wonder if they left it on her body. Sorry for the morbid thoughts. But I needed a rant. It's not what I really wanted to say...

...What I really wanted to say was full of profanity to the people that cast out these beautiful felines with the garbage.

Cat Earrings

I had a dream last night that I was at a car dealership and going to buy an expensive car. But they wouldn't sell me the car because I was wearing cat earrings. I think this is a whole new dream low. I opened my jewellery drawer this morning and saw the offending cat earrings and grimaced as I remembered the dream.

So what if I wear cat earrings? So what if I have a cat charm bracelet? So what if I have a bunch of cat statues in the house? Sure, I sound defensive. My adorable husband who NEVER complains about anything (other than garage sales) finally told me, "NO MORE CAT STATUARY!" Hahahaha! Surely he doesn't mean it, because I just went to Home Sense yesterday and bought THE CUTEST yellow cat statue for the guest bedroom. I haven't unwrapped it yet, and it's sitting in the guest room that he never goes into. Tough cookies, buddy - the cat statue is staying.

I really want a personalized licence plate that says "CAT RESQ". I admit that it's a little creepy - me driving down the highway with my cat earrings, cat charm bracelet, and a Home Sense bag full of cat statuary for the garden in a car with a cat related personalized licence plate.

Nobody will have to guess what I'm about.

But I'm also about other things too. I love God, my husband, my children, my friends, Tim Hortons, and shoes...the list goes on ad infinitum.

Yes, I'm a bit defensive about my life. I've had too many people recently call me "TCCL" (The Crazy Cat Lady). I'm not crazy. Sure I get frustrated, angry, sad and lonely.

But when it comes to "The Cause" - I'm in it all the way...cat earrings and all.

To Our Former Adopters...

This is an open "Thank you" to all of our former adopters. Not our future adopters....but to the folks that have adopted from us. (Although we hope our future adopters can learn from the former adopters!) With all the whining I do in this blog, I figured it was time to make a special note to lovely people who give our cats forever homes...

Thank you....

....for showing up on time when you met our cats and calling us when you were going to be late.

....for staying in touch with our foster families after you bring home the cat. We loved "Fluffy" when he was frightened and flea bitten. You can't imagine how an e-mail or phone call telling us that he's happy makes us feel.

....for sending us a photo album of "Fluffy" in every cute possible pose when we only asked for 1 picture. It makes our hearts soar!

....for making us a friend on Facebook.

....for understanding when we cried when you put Fluffy in the carrier. It's hard letting go sometimes.

....for taking Fluffy to the vets when Fluffy got sick the first week he's home with you and not complaining to us. We didn't know he was sick when he was adopted - really and truly.

....for making BIG exclamations on how "completely adorable...perfect...wonderful...so sweet..." Fluffy was when you first saw him. (We thought so too!)

....for telling us about all the toys, cat beds, and windows that are in your house.

....for telling us something really cute that Fluffy did when he first arrived in your home.

....for letting us know if Fluffy has passed away. We want to grieve with you too.

A special note to Shiya's adopter: I know there's not much chance you'll see this...but we can't find your phone number and Shiya's foster Mom desperately wants to know how she is. She still cares....

...and always will. It's what we do.

Another Glamorous Day in Rescue

Ahhhh....the Glamour of Rescue! Today was an administrative day. I spent a glorious 8 hours filing, sending out tax receipts for donations, bookkeeping and updating my e-mail address book. If that wasn't boring enough, the highlight was a trip to Staples to buy some office supplies for the rescue.

I could probably make administrative days much easier on myself, but I really believe in the personal handwritten letter to anyone that sends us money. These days money is too hard to part with, so I really believe it's the right thing to get off my ass and send people a thank you note. Yep..."My Mama done brought me up riiiight."

On a happy note, my foster cat McKinley was adopted last night! He was dropped off by an adopter (I think I wrote about him in my last post) on Canada Day. I was SO HAPPY that he didn't have to stay for very long. He was such a nice boy and he was adopted by the same couple that had adopted my foster cat Magoo!

I'm dealing with URI in the house right now. My foster baby "Carson" had a fever last night and "Eddie" the siamese is sick with it too. My little "Thomas Turner" is now sneezing. I've never had URI run through the whole house, but I'm guessing that's exactly what will happen. I had Carson quarantined for 2 weeks, darnnit. I suppose my next blog post will be something regarding snot. Something to look forward to.

I feel like a mole down in the basement on this beautiful day. But I really have to be mentally prepared for a day of administration and I thought about it all last night. It's the side of rescue that nobody really talks about and nobody wants to know that I do. I wish I were rescuing some cats that needed me instead of doing this.

But alas...with the "House of Snot" going on, maybe being in the basement isn't such a bad place to be.

Kelly and McKinley

Happy Canada Day! My holiday started with the return of one of our cats. McKinley is a very cute older kitten that was adopted 6 weeks ago by a young woman and her boyfriend. I've always been a little prejudiced against young people that live together out of fear that they're just "playing house" by adopting a cat. I always worry about their commitment level.

I received the call from Kelly last week. Her and the boyfriend broke up and the boyfriend doesn't want McKinley and she still has 1 year left at school and has to move home. I avoided calling her back right away because I had hoped she would work things out by reconciling with the boyfriend or her parents would allow McKinely to stay there. It wasn't meant to be. Her calls became more and more frantic.

There were SO MANY things I wanted to say to Kelly. I had rehearsed them last night night. I wanted to tell her "Next time, adopt a fish", or "What were you thinking?" or "Obviously, you weren't ready for this kind of commitment."

I couldn't do it. She showed up at the door and was a lovely young woman. She had his toys and McKinley had received his booster shots and her own vet. She loved him and took care of him. Her eyes brimmed with tears as I took him out of his crate. She couldn't speak. I took McKinley around to some of my cats and said in a cheery voice, "McKinley, this is Wilbur your new friend!" I suddenly wanted to make her feel better. I told her that she could come visit him and she could have him back if she pulled her life together and he was still available. I even said something stupid like she could meet the potential adopters. *sigh*

We all make mistakes. Certainly I was naive at 22 years old. But at 22 years old I was married, had a baby and 4 cats. It was my choice and I wouldn't do anything else. But I couldn't help but console this young woman. She had a year left of University. Her life was in front of her. There would be other cats and other boyfriends.

For now....I need to console McKinley. He's a confused little guy and doesn't understand what happened to him. He's so sweet and gentle. He'll be ok.

Kelly will be OK too. I hope she remembers us after she graduates from University. Maybe she'll become a veterinarian and offer her services for free! One can only hope!

Buddies...

Imagine you and your sister/brother/best friend have been together your whole lives only to have a stranger come along and tear you apart - never to see each other again. I don't think we say enough about "Bonded Pairs".

Potential adopters call me all the time and want a new companion for their cat who has just lost their partner cat to cancer, old age, hit by a car...etc. We know animals grieve. I had two sisters - Newman and Whoopie. Whoopie died and Newman was left in total anguish. I remember three days after Whoopie died Newman sat in the foyer and howled. It was like nothing else I had ever heard. It could only be described as "total and utter grief."

Kim at the shelter is very conscious of bonded pairs. I remember when I first heard her philosophy of "they must be rescued together, or they die together." I thought she was crazy! Isn't it better to save ONE than lose two? I don't feel that way anymore. I agree with her 100%. The bonded pairs at the shelter huddle together - they've lost their home and they only have each other. It's really a pitiful sight.

I decided to write about bonded pairs today, because we have TWO PAIRS adopted in the past 2 days. What a victory this is to see pairs that love each other so much go home together forever. Adult bonded pairs are really hard to adopt. We always tell foster homes that they'll have them for a while.

Sometimes pairs that we THINK are bonded really aren't bonded at all! We had a pair named Tiggy and Tazzy. Tiggy was very outgoing and darling. Tazzy was very shy and hid a lot under the bed. The foster Mom was certain that they weren't bonded at all - even though they had lived their whole lives together. With a heavy heart, we permitted Tiggy to be adopted first. After his sister was adopted, Tazzy was a different cat. He no longer hid, and he was Mr. Social! Who would've ever guessed?

What would we do without our foster homes to tell us this kind of stuff? Another wonderful reason that a foster-based rescue is the best way to adopt a cat...or two...or three...

The Kitten Chaos

People ask me all the time why I don't foster kittens. The truth is...I *used* to foster kittens exclusively when I lived in California. I loved when they would come running to me when I walked into the room. It was an instant ego boost - I was loved!! I could turn off the t.v. and just watch them play - all the posturing and experimental Lion-like behaviour. Who can resist?

I contacted one of our foster Moms last night who is fostering a rambunctious orange kitten. An adopter wanted her as an "only cat". The foster Mom's response was this: "I strongly recommend that B--- go to a home with a playful cat friend, or with someone who will play with her a lot *LOL*. She has a hearty appetite and will try to eat your food as well as hers (Greek salad was a big hit), door-dashes, climbs in the stove, frig, dishwasher, races around behind the washing machine, and climbs under the covers with you. She loves her cuddles."

Yah. The Kitten Chaos. Thank you for the reminder! It's like having a 2 year old child on steroids in the house when you have a kitten. Nothing is safe and everything becomes a toy. Gotta love 'em.

Yesterday afternoon I had a litter of 3 kittens at my house for a few hours before I transported them to their foster home. My 20 year old son came downstairs to get me saying, "Oh. My. God. Mom. You should SEE what the kittens did in the bathroom!"
I sighed. I walked into the bathroom to find the shower curtain on the ground. What I didn't see right away - I could smell. (((Insert Psycho Theme music here))) Somebody had used the litterbox, walked through the poop and tracked it all over the bathroom. Tiny kitten poop footprints were on the floor, the wall, the front of the cabinets. How did they manage to get poop on the wall???

When I walked in, the little poopers were sound asleep in their cat bed...it was hard to believe they had made such a mess in a matter of a few hours. Now they were blissfully dreaming. Their little bodies entwined together made them look like one kitten.

The moment reminded me of when my kids were little. There were some days I couldn't put them to bed fast enough. I was burned out...fed up...and ready for a "Calgon Moment." But before I'd go to bed, I'd check on them and they'd look so precious. It was easy to forget that they had thrown temper tantrums, wet the bed, spilled cheerios all over the floor.

The foster family that took the little darlings yesterday was thrilled with them. They're fluffy lookin' little angels...angels with horns.

Gotta love 'em :)

Family First

I'm back....again. I feel like this has been a month of me apologizing for being gone, or being out of the loop on things. Life gets in the way sometimes.

I've always said, "Family comes first". No doubt about it. But I can't help but feel badly for the volunteers that I left in the lurch last week while I was away. We had a HUGE weekend with a waterfront festival and adoption event. I was supposed to help at both of them. Fortunately, they were able to scramble and things went on without me. But I know that we were really pressed for volunteers.

Looks like we had NINE adoptions while I was gone! Ahhhh.....the volunteers *ROCK*. Two cats went out on a trial adoption and I can only pray that they work out.

While at an adopt-a-thon, one of our prior adopters dumped her two cats there and said that I said it was "OK" to leave them. I didn't. I had been working with this woman who had family issues. She felt like she couldn't deal with two cats that she adopted six weeks ago AND her family issues. In the spirit of "Family First", I didn't mind helping her rehome the cats but she lied like a rug when she said I approved it. The poor cats are so depressed. They're sitting in a Petsmart cage right now not knowing what the hell happened to them. I sent her a rather nasty e-mail for which I make no apologies. I'm a little embarrassed about what I said, but at least I didn't use profanity. *shrug*

I'm going to the shelter tomorrow to rescue a few cats. We don't have room for them, but five of them are older kittens and I can't let them die. They're marked for euthanasia in the morning, and I'm a complete freak for thinking we can squeeze in five more cats in the program.


This is Pretzel. He's only 12 weeks old and he's supposed to die tomorrow. Hard to believe somebody gets PAID to kill him. It's even harder to believe somebody didn't pay the money to have their cat spayed so he wasn't born and unwanted in the first place.
(*stepping off the soapbox*) I figure anyone that reads this blog probably knows this stuff anyway, so I'm preaching to the choir.

Speaking of "Reading the Blog"....I was so surprised to receive such wonderful e-mails in support regarding my daughter. I didn't know that so many people actually read this thing! My daughter is getting better and we had a lovely mother/daughter time together. There's nothing like shopping, manicures and a fancy hotel room to make the most depressed person feel better. Worked for me!

Now if I can only figure out what to do with these cats I'm rescuing tomorrow. Maybe I'll think about it over a pedicure....(ha.ha.)

It Never Rains in California....Unless Your Daughter Lives There...

I'm heading back to California this morning on an emergency with my daughter. There's no time to do my usual "shaking of the finger" - and threaten everybody to feed cats, clean litterboxes and give medications.

Thank God for cell phones! (My son looks a little too happy that I'm leaving....)

I'm Still Alive...

What a crazy week it's been! I kept sitting down to write in my blog about some event or another then would get sidetracked. Can't believe it's been more than a week since my last post. I really missed writing. Where did the time go?

I'm pleased to say that I've finally finished and mailed the Charitable Tax Returns for the rescue. If there was a definition for "Ostrich Syndrome" in the dictionary, there would be a picture of me with my head in the sand and the Revenue Canada forms flung around me. I feel so much better now that it's done. It was late - but it's d-o-n-e.

We had two kittens pass away last week. They were from different litters, but seemed to both be genetic problems. As horrible as it sounds, I wish the kittens would die at birth rather than at 6-8 weeks old. The foster Moms are so attached and they're so damn cute. Poor D-- had to go to work after holding her kitten and watching him die. What a way to start the day.

We had a foster home leave in a snit. I don't know what her problem was, but she dumped her two foster cats at the vets after saying she would adopt them. We're all pretty relieved about it. She was a very difficult foster home and had to move more cats out of her home than she actually adopted out. I wish people knew how much time and effort it took to move one cat.

Over the weekend, we had EIGHT adoptions! I love it when we have weekends like this. My own foster cat, Magoo was adopted. The couple that adopted him were thrilled and I have no doubt he'll be loved forever. One of our new foster Moms had both of her foster cats adopted this weekend too. I hope she feels really good about it. One of the cats was a black kitten....it's such a victory when a black cat is adopted.

My internet connection was down for the past 4 days. It was surreal to watch my sons emerge from their rooms to watch T.V. with us. My younger son said that he had NO idea what was going on at school because he couldn't log onto MSN. You should've seen his face when I suggested that he CALL his friends on the phone. Obviously, I'm not connected to the high school communication scene anymore. I'm really no better - I didn't realize how addicted I was to my e-mail until I didn't have any! Rogers finally came out and did some rewiring. Poof! I have e-mail again!

It was probably a good thing for me to have some down time. I've been SO sick for the past 10 days with God-knows-what. Antibiotics haven't seemed to work, so it must be some nasty virus going around. If this is what our cats go through when they have URI....

It sure feels good to write again. :)

The Tide is Turning

Maybe it's been so long since good news has come through this rescue that when it finally started rolling in I didn't recognize it right away.

Within a 30 minute time period, we had 3 adoption calls: two of them were for black cats - Scooter and Annie. The other for a little butterball, older calico named Razberry.

If that wasn't enough good news, one of our foster homes tells me that $2500.00 is on our way from their employer who donates to charitable organizations based on their volunteer time of their employees!! Whoo hooo! I can pay the vet bill this week! This is a huge load off my mind. There were tears streaming down my face when she told me. I hadn't realized how worried I had been about it.

I'd like to put this bit of good news in a bathtub and bathe in it for a while. Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!

So this morning, I'm sitting here sipping my coffee and listening to the pitter-patter of galloping paws upstairs. My house is clean and my laundry is done. It's a rainy day and I'm hopeful that three hard-to-adopt cats will find forever homes this week, and I get to make a $2500.00 deposit.

Even if the adoptions don't go through, it felt so good to know that adopters inquired about them. Foster homes need good news too.

I'm lifting my coffee mug this morning in a toast to "Good News - I love ya, man - welcome to our rescue. Sit down and stay awhile"

Lost and Found

I lost one of my foster cats. I don't know how it happened or where it happened, but he's not in my house. Dakota was rescued with his brother "Max" and they're about 18 months old.

I'm a veteran at answering the front door bent over with my hand flat out so the cats don't get out. I've been doing it for 25 years, and my family is the same way - I can't imagine how he could've gotten out the front door, but I'm guessing he did.

His brother Max is devastated. He's been wandering around my house with the mournful cries, crying out for his brother.

It's horrible. Really, really terrible.

Tomorrow, I'm going to put signs up, and check with Animal Control on Monday. Dakota is a pretty skittish guy so I don't hold out much hope he'll turn up on somebody's doorstep. I've only had him for a few days, so he doesn't know where he lives.

Tomorrow, I was supposed to take Max and Dakota to the Petsmart adoption centre. I can't do it now. I can't leave Max in a Petsmart cage after he's lost his beloved brother. I can't do it. Can't do it.

This incident doesn't go under the category of "shit happens". It's beyond that. I feel like such a fool. I took the dog for a walk tonight with hope I'd spot him. I called out his name, but he doesn't really know me.

I haven't given up hope yet....but I'm close.

Update Sunday 9 a.m. - DAKOTA HAS BEEN FOUND! He was hiding behind my dryer. I must've looked there a million times yesterday, but there he was laying in the lint and lost socks. I have no idea if he could get out or not, but at least he was in the laundry room with food, water and a litterbox. He's hissing at me and his brother seems happy to see him. Thank God.

Stress and the City

I don't think I've ever really talked about stress and cat rescue before. I don't know what it is about stress, but I'm not one of those people that thrive on it.

The phone rang at 6 a.m. (yes, 6 in the MORNING) yesterday morning by a lady that adopted Sawyer, a darling, sweet little guy with a Grade 5 heart murmur. He had simply dropped over and died. No doubt it was a heart attack. She was crying and asked me to come over and pick up the body. That's a service I can't provide - not at 6 a.m.. It hurt to e-mail the former foster family that loved him dearly. The heart murmur was fully disclosed to the adopter, but I had hoped she would love him longer than the 2 weeks she had him. Such sad stuff.

The day continued with me picking up a shoe filled with cat pee and flinging it all down the front of me. How on earth did Bob pee in a shoe? I don't think I could pee in a shoe if I tried. I loved those shoes.

I must've been really focused on the tasks of the day, because I forgot to close my car window fully at the car wash and got a blast in the face with water. I took this as a sign to get myself together. What else could I do but laugh? It felt good to laugh and I could feel the stress ease away.

Over the past 48 hours we've had two prior adopters come forward and want to return 3 cats. One of the cats had been adopted over TWO YEARS AGO! The other gal wanted to return her two cats because they broke a vase and she can't handle the stress. Good Lord, did I really adopt to these people? A broken vase? She needs to spend a day at my house.

I'm not letting these people off the hook. I walk a fine line when I tell people to suck it up and deal with their responsibilities. I don't want the cats to suffer the consequences. But we're REALLY full right now, cats are dying at the shelter and I don't feel very nice about taking adopted cats back.

We have a couple of foster homes that need to move problem cats, and I have two brothers in my den. One of the brothers gave me a scary howl and chased me out of the room. *argh* I hate it when that happens! I'm sure it's a funny site to see....me running out of the room with pooper scooper in hand.

I was at the shelter yesterday and rescued a bunch of cats. It's a grim site over there, lemme tell ya. So many sweet young cats. I ended up taking too many. Somehow it'll all work out, but it sure didn't help the stress levels in my head. The newly empty cages on a Wednesday meant that quite a few died.

I went to bed last night worried about the garage sale. They're calling for rain on Saturday. Looks like we're going to have to cancel. At least my garage isn't full of crap like it was last year. David's happy about that. We gotta get the husband's happy, right?

Although this post sounds like I'm discouraged, I'm really not. Things are OK despite the stress. I'm going to take some extra doses of vitamin B complex and cautiously take some treats into my cranky feline houseguests in my den.

Yep...yep....it'll all work out....

It's Garage Sale Time

This is going to be a busy week and despite some minor objections from David, we're having another garage sale at my house this year. I can hardly wait to get rid of the crrrrrap that's been in my basement for the past 5 years. I don't know why I've been keeping it. Like foster cats, some things are hard to part with. :)

My oldest son owes me some money, so he's going to be my fetch and tote kid to bring this stuff out of the basement. He thinks it's going to be an easy job - wait until he sees this stuff. I'm hoping we'll get some decent $$ for it all.

One of the nicest parts of doing the garage sale is how many former adopters show up! The past few years folks have shown up with pictures of their "kids". Ahhh....it does a heart goood.

We put up a tent and have kittens in a shady area in "the kitten corral". The kittens won't be up for adoption, but it really helps keep people hanging around and buying stuff. Certainly, it adds credence to our cause. I do a lot of soliciting for foster homes during these things. I wonder if people avoid me because I talk about fostering so much?

Going through the boxes and bags that people have donated is really quite entertaining. Last year, somebody donated (accidently?) a sex toy that shall remain nameless. To this day, I wonder who donated it or who was missing it. *wink*

Lordie, I hate cleaning up after a garage sale. We're up at dawn and worked the whole day before the event, so cleaning up is the worse job of the day. The volunteers are all tired and uninspired. Nobody (especially me!) wants to clean up the crap that was left behind.

D-- is bringing her teenage son to help. If the truth be known, I'm jealous that her son WANTS to help us. (This is the same kid that played Santa at our holiday event!) I asked my youngest son (he's 17 years old) to donate some of his old toys and he said he would - if - he could keep the money. Can we say "T-U-R-D"? It must be nice to have an unselfish teenager in the house. I'm going to sell his stuff anyway - he'll be asleep and won't miss it. Do I sound bitter? I'm more embarrassed than anything.

It's going to be a busy week - but I'm up for it. Just got back from San Francisco after watching my baby graduate from nursing school. Now if she can only marry a veterinarian...

But I digress....

The Drama of a Foster Based Rescue

This post should be titled: "Things I Shouldn't Have to Deal With". Sure, we rescue cats, pay bills, deal with adopters and foster homes. But when things go bad in a foster home, it's always disturbing.

I received an e-mail from a foster home to move a cat. Nothing unusual. Sh*t happens. But as the day progressed, the e-mails started sounding more urgent....They started out with, "Can we please move so-and so?" By the end of the day.... "The cat HAS to go today...my boyfriend is threatening to throw the cat outside..."

The alarm bells went off. "Throw the cat outside????" This had been a very responsible foster Mom. What is going on? I didn't ask many questions. It was 8:30 at night and I knew something really bad was going on at that home. I called another foster Mom that lived near her and asked her to pick up the cat. God bless her...she did it. She left her warm home with her family and picked up this poor cat from what I think was an abusive situation. I have no idea what was going on...but the young woman that had been fostering him was very upset. The poor girl. I wish I could help her too.

I can't begin to write about all the stuff that has happened in foster homes throughout the years. We've had some very dramatic situations. I try really hard not to dwell on these things or my head would spin off my neck like a top. I really do believe that people's intentions are GOOD. But when you're dealing with people, stuff happens that isn't always predictable. Isn't it that way with any job?

I think about my own life. When I was young, I took care of my cats. They were neutered, vaccinated and loved. I didn't trim their nails, and I was grateful that they weren't sick much since I was always poor. I moved a lot, went through a bunch of different relationships. My apartment looked like a Salvation Army showroom. But God help the man that wanted to throw out one of my cats.

I've spoken with a few other rescues throughout the years and some of them want nothing to do with a foster based rescue. "It's a hassle", they'd tell me. There are some days I understand why. But in my opinion it is the BEST way to rescue cats. Without foster parents we wouldn't be able to help people choose the right cat for them. Without foster parents our cats would be in cages, or I'd end up with 100 cats in my house and a divorce.

Without foster parents - I'd lose 90% of my friends. I really love these people that help me and our cats. They accept me as I am, and we have a common goal and bond.

For the good, the bad, and the ugly....I'm grateful for every last one of them.

Pillow Talk

I was sitting here tonight trying to figure out the last time I slept alone. I mean....REALLY alone. Even when my husband is out of town, there are still 4-5 cats on the bed with me.

I had the luxury of taking a nap this afternoon. It was a dark dreary day and nobody was in the house to remind me that I was being a slacker. So I took off my shoes and snuggled under the warm covers and made kissing noises to entice the cats to climb aboard. Pella, my fat black cat was the first to jump up. She's a confident girl and strode over - across my bladder - and sat on my chest. Phoebe, my little dilute calico came running too. She managed to jump across my left boob and left a big ol' scratch. (That's ok...I'm used to the abuse) Bob, my "Grandpa cat", climbed up on my pillow above my head, and Newman found a spot on my legs.

I felt like a mummy. I couldn't move. If I tried to move I got glares and nails that dug in to hold on. There was something very comforting about my babies surrounding me. I think people who don't have cats that snuggle up with them at night are really missing out on being part of "the litter". I woke myself up snoring because I was on my back. More glares from the felines.

One foster Mom told me yesterday how her foster kitten sleeps under her neck at night and purrs and purrs and purrs. She said she can't sleep with noise, so she puts in ear plugs. What a trooper!!

The other night I decided to fill up my jacuzzi tub and take a nice long hot bath. Before I even climbed in, the cats were positioned around the edges of the tub and batting at the bubbles. I wanted to light candles, but was worried I'd set a tail on fire or something. My husband came in, saw me surrounded in luxurious bubbles and gave me a sleazy smile and a "woo woo". I glared.

The poor guy. I shouldn't have glared. Afterall, I found a "cat butt stain" on his pillowcase the other day. Rather than changing the pillow case, I turned the pillow over and hoped he wouldn't notice. I know. I suck.

I received an e-mail this afternoon from a foster Mom who just brought home her new foster cat, Danny. She told me that Danny slept on the bed with her husband and watched a movie with him. It was like he had always been there.

So yes....I love my littermates and am happy I've been accepted as part of "the litter". I wouldn't change a thing.

I do feel pretty bad about the pillowcase though.

(My daughter Katy - napping - she's part of the litter too)

This Post Confused Me and I Wrote It.

When you only have voice conversations with someone, you can often hear subtle changes in their voice and instantly know when something is wrong or when something has changed. I wasn't surprised that my mother recently made a comment that I sounded "different." Afterall - she IS my mother. She's always known when something wasn't right in my world without me saying a word. But what I hadn't expected is when she told me she thought I had become "harder" since I've been running the rescue.

I've been mulling this conversation over for days. Have I become "harder" and "thick skinned"?

Once I became more educated about the plight of homeless cats and what really happens in shelters, I became more vulnerable. I don't like being vulnerable. Vulnerable means I'm going to get hurt. Vulnerable is how you are when you tell someone "I love you" and hope and pray they say it back. Vulnerable is everytime I walk into shelter and know there will be a cat that touches my heart but I won't have the volunteers, resources or space to take him and he'll die. My emotional wall comes up and I have to protect myself. It hurts too much.

I told myself when I took over the rescue 4 years ago that I wouldn't lose sight of the mission. I wouldn't become one of THOSE "jaded shelter/rescue workers". But it was only last year that I started using the phrase, "We can't save them all". Was there a day that I REALLY thought I could save them all?

On the other hand, vulnerable also means *passion*. When I'm vulnerable, I do have passion. When I'm vulnerable I have the fire under my butt and feel like everything I say is the RIGHT thing to say. --"Even if you don't like what I'm going to say, you're going to hear it anyway!"-- When I'm vulnerable I feel like I'm moving in the right direction, making a difference, my soul is being fed.

This is a really hard blog post to write. It's almost TOO personal. It's easier writing about cat poop. I keep typing stuff and hitting the backspace button. As Dr. Phil says, "It's time to get real". But I'm not sure if I'm ready to do it. (Did I really just quote Dr. Phil?)


I saw a picture of a cat at the shelter - his name is Logan and he's neutered and declawed. I bet somebody loved him at some point. He looks so sad and abandoned. I need to be vulnerable to help him. I have to beg people to take him at the risk of being turned down.


I don't think I've become "harder". I think I've become wiser and more confident. I just wish I could stop getting hurt . But if I stopped getting hurt, I would get "tougher" and lose the passion.

(**lightbulb over the head**) I think I get it now.

Guilt and a Beautiful Day

With a twinge of guilt, I spent a good portion today in my yard gardening. It was good medicine to be outside on a crisp spring day and digging my hands into the earth. My front yard looks beautiful now...full of flowers. I periodically came inside and checked phone messages, returned calls and e-mails. I went to the nursery twice to buy more flowers and cut the extension cord in half while trimming hedges. (Crud!)

So why do I feel so guilty for not really working on rescue stuff today? Everybody had prompt returned phone calls and e-mails. Could I really be a "rescue work-a-holic"? My kids have confronted me a few times about "always being on the phone." They're teenagers and I think they have a lot of nerve to suggest that I'm on the phone too much. Just because I'm not at their beckon call...but I digress...

My office is located in my basement. It's a really nice basement, so I never feel like I'm working in squalor or anything. But on a beautiful day, I really fight being down in the dark. In the winter, I'm probably much more efficient. The rescue phone line rings at my desk, which I'm very proud to say that we're one of the few rescues where somebody actually answers the phone!

I took the cordless rescue phone outside with me while I worked. It was kind of neat to be answering the phone,(insert perky voice here) "Good morning, Blah...blah...blah, Rescue..." while I was planting flowers. I'd have to scurry inside when someone asked about a particular cat because my computer and files are downstairs. It worked beautifully until some teeny bopper drove by playing some "rap crap" while I was on the phone. Lord, I sound 86 - not 46.

Tomorrow, I'm not attending our adoption event. I'm excited to say that David and I are working on the BACK yard tomorrow and having some much needed marital bonding. I'll still answer the phones and e-mails, but not without guilt that I'm not at the adoption event. I have to do an adoption on Sunday, so my day off is going to be short-lived.

I hope it rains on Sunday...

Where's a Fork to Stick In My Eye?

I feel like dowsing myself in gasoline and lighting a match. Really. Today just plain sucked.

The first e-mail of the day started with news of an adoption! I love those, and I got into my shower this morning with a great attitude and a beautiful sunny Monday morning waiting for me to join it.

The day went downhill after that....

My first phone call of the day was someone wanting to "surrender" her 9 (NINE!!!) black cats. None of them were spayed or neutered. She lives in an apartment and a neighbour called animal control on her due to odour. (uh huh...I bet her place is a male-cat-pee love fest) She was crying and saying she didn't want to lose her cats. She wasn't a bad person. Just ignorant. Maybe I could take a couple of her black cats...*put it on the to do list*

I had my whole day planned out to spend part of it at one of the Petsmart locations where we were to start placing cats for adoption in their adoption centre. The animal control that's supposed to share with us, refused to move their cats. (that's a whole different post - what a nutcase!) Believe me, my situation isn't half as bad as the sweet volunteer who is keeping SIX of the cats that were supposed to go there today in her home. Now she's stuck with them until this can be sorted out. No good deed goes unpunished...

One of our foster homes told me she received a call today that our sweet "Jelly Bean" is being returned to us. The reason? "She wants too much attention." (Mental Note: Don't be too needy when David comes home from work tonight.)

I got an e-mail from a long time foster parent that was hurt, mad, upset at me for forgetting to ask about a sick cat that they have been fostering. It's a very very sick cat with a major heart problem. They took the poor guy to the vets at their expense (bless 'em) and I totally forgot to ask about the outcome of the visit. She was pretty mad at me for not supporting her.

Revenue Canada is obviously mad at me too. I forgot to file the return for the rescue. God, I haven't even balanced my bank statement, how on earth am I going to file a return for last year? WHEN am I going to do it?

How can I forget about the sick cat and my tax return, but I managed to remember to place an ad in the newspaper for the upcoming adoption event? I don't know. I'm running a 100+ volunteer organization and I'm only one person. D-- and J-- are doing their part and scrambling just like I am. I wish people would remember that my rescue day starts at 8:00 a.m., and ends at 10 p.m. I don't get paid, and I'm really never "off the clock". Even in Switzerland, I'm calling D-- to make sure everything is ok.

This wasn't the worst day in the world. Nobody died. The meatloaf was overcooked tonight because I was on the phone with an adopter, but we ate it anyway and nobody complained. My son that works at Starbucks is going to bring me home some "treats" tonight when he closes the store. I think some chocolate, sugar, and empty calories are just what I need tonight.

"Max"

I don't believe in "luck" and I don't believe there are "coincidences". I believe things are meant to be for a reason. I had a beautiful example of that today that I wanted to share. Here's the story:

One of our new foster parents Sue, (her name's been changed) rescued several cats on Wednesday. While she was at the shelter a cat named "Calvin" really touched her heart. She didn't take him that day, but she thought about him all evening, through the night and the next morning. She said she wasn't sure WHAT it was about this 6 year old cat, but without my knowledge she was compelled to rescue him the next morning....and she did.

When I first heard that Sue rescued another cat was when our vet called and told me that Calvin needed about $300.00 in dental work. "Calvin? WHO is Calvin, and I don't have $300.00 for dental work!" But Calvin was in pain. His teeth were rotten and I authorized the dental work on this unknown cat.

The next day Sue was at work and showing pictures to other people in the office of her foster cats. A young man by the name of James was going through the pictures and stopped at Calvin's picture - "HEY! That's MAX!" Max had been missing for the past week. James hadn't worried too much because Max had a tendency to disappear and reappear periodically.

It was a miracle. Calvin and Max were the same cat and he had a home. I had a long talk with a very excited James. The poor kid - I really put him through a grueling set of questions. "Don't you know how close your cat came to being put to sleep?" "WHY the hell weren't you out looking for him?" etc. etc. I was pretty brutal with details of the shelter euthanasia process. I spared no details. I wanted to be sure that Max was going back to a good home.

Max is the family cat. I was assured over and over that Max is very much loved - James was so excited to get him home. Importantly, he was happy to pay the $300.00 dental bill too. Whew! James promised me that Max would never be permitted outside again.

The funny part of this story is that James told me that he had Max since he was in the 1st grade. I did the math...Max isn't 6 years old like the vet had thought. He's a 14 year old kitty!!

Nope. This was no coincidence. Thank you Sue -- You did more than save the life of a 14 year old cat that day. You reconfirmed in my heart that there is no such thing as "luck" or "coincidence." Sleep well, Max - you're home tonight.