choosing to foster kittens

Last year we began fostering kittens.  It was something I had wanted to do, but thought that I wouldn’t have the time.  Foster kittens are nothing but time consuming.  They are small, weak, hungry and craving love when they first arrive.  Some are skittish and hide in the corners, some openly claw their way up your back and settle on your neck.  They are all unique and have distinct personalities.  Even when they are close in coloring and markings, it becomes easy to tell them apart in the matter of a day or two.

Some struggle like Atticus in the beginning, barely half a pound, syringe feeding over the course of long nights, trips to our foster coordinator for IV’s and treatment.  Now his foster parents show me pictures of him, large and in charge and always ready for a snack.

Some like Augustus just seem to love life from the beginning.  He was a constant source of entertainment and now has taken over the hearts and lives of my cousin and her family.  He and his best buddy Sarah are a pair like no other.  The happiness they bring out in each other causes my heart to swell.

They are easy to love, these kittens.  They are hard to lose, like dear Addison who I had only a matter of a week before he succumbed and died.  They were my first litter and when I awoke and found his soul gone and his body cold, I berated myself for possibly missing something, for not knowing.  I was told gently the statistics for kittens to survive coming into the world. Much scarier are the statistics for these little ones in the wild.  Here is a link about Fading Kitten Syndrome and the statistics of why we lose so many.

These kittens came from the streets, a backpack, a hoarder, behind a grocery store, in the hedges.  Some make it, some don’t.  We give them the best possible chance and we teach them how to love.  All my kittens love.  I teach all my kittens to love.  They are hard to let go after all that love.  But as foster parents we do it.  We see to it that they are ready for that new family, that furrever home.  Some take longer than others. Sometimes it just requires patience. Harbor was so spoiled she went to three adoption events, clinging to me and crying.  Finally, the right person came and she settled into her arms and I knew she'd finally found her place.  

I see it all the time at adoption events.  A certain person and a certain cat just click.  In the right hands a nervous kitten in a busy pet store will just melt into a potential adopters arms and we know.  We all know, every one of us that works in rescue.  We smile knowingly to each other and know that the adoption fee is going to be paid and that kitten is going home. 

Winter has been quiet.  No kittens in the house, but Spring is right around the corner and with it kitten season.  I said I would take the winter to decide if I will foster again, but I know I will.  I can’t resist.  When the call comes, I can’t say no.  They need me and in a way, I need them.  They bring something out in me that fills a need.  Caring for them fulfills that nurturing side of me.   I doubted I could do it at one time.  Now I know that I not only can, but I am made to do this.

I would love if we didn't have a cat overpopulation problem.  I would love if people would responsibly spay or neuter.  One day I hope to take a bigger role.  I would love to fill my days with animals like these, but for now I will take what bits I have and give them a starter home.  I can't save them all, but I can take enough to fill my heart and give these dozen each year a fighting chance.

my blog cannot die

I haven’t written anything on my blog in a long time.  I stopped for a time because I said things got hectic but you know it never really slows down and I miss it.  I changed my vision of it, trying to make it a community blog and smart and streamlined and well, that’s not really my purpose either.  It’s always worked best when it was an outlet for my writing about my feelings and my observations of the life around me. 

Right now, I’ve realized I miss the outlet that blogging gave me.  It was my therapy really, my confessional, my place to let go of those things I harbored inside, whether good or bad.  Sometimes, people connected with what I wrote, but then I felt guilty for not making the blog rounds back to support them because as always, time, time, time.  Some days I feel like my words went out to an empty cavern, echoing back to me that no one really cares about what one little person on a little hill thinks.  What makes me so full of myself?  What makes me think I am special?

They say blogging is a dying form.  That Instagram is the way to go now, and no one reads blogs anymore.  It takes too much time when you can scroll through an Instagram feed.  I’ve tried Instagram twice now and I get it, but it doesn’t work for me.  First I have the worst camera phone ever and second I have a hard time typing on that little screen because I have a lot of words.  I’m a writer by nature more than a photographer.  I love both, but it’s the words that flow so easily from me. 

So I’m going to start writing here again, just me and my thoughts, some good, some bad.  You are welcome to join me if you wish, if not I will be glad to have this diary to look back on and see the progress I have made.  If anything it gives me a reason to make a habit of writing and that is what I think I am missing right now.

fireflies

tip of the hat

I miss polite society.  

I wish men still wore hats.  

And not baseball caps turned backwards or sideways.  

I wish men wore hats that they would tip at you and say 

"Good Morning, Ma'am."

Ma'am.

Hats tipping.

Gentlemen.

Oh goodness.

Tell me where they have gone.

Just Now :: 7.8.15

in my belly:  granola cereal (girls aren't home, mama is not making dinners)
out the window: hydrangeas in bloom
in my ears:  Heartbeats by Jose Gonzalez, never tire of this song
by my bedside: Amity & Sorrow by Peggy Riley
watching: Enough Said, love movies with realistic characters, made me laugh out loud
wishing: for a getaway, but that's a bit far off
feeling: lost without my girls
learning: to strike up a daily writing regimen
loving: my little foster kittens, and hoping they find furrever homes soon

the love list:
this recipe, so easy, and perfect for summer
this list of books
this photo, because gosh i love the royals
this is still one of my favorite kittencam moments ever
really, really want to see this movie
if it's summer, why am i thinking about christmas

writing awakened

Here she was.

It was supposed to be a writing prompt.

A flash fiction to get the juices flowing.

From the photo I found above.

Then I remembered an idea I had scribbled before.

Then I heard this song.

I posted these words from the song on the wall.

  My actual wall above my desk.

And I've been up for two nights clipping other photos and hanging.

Inspiration. Guides.

And writing....actually writing.

Not developing characters.

Not fighting with an outline.

Just writing.

Mix one part nature.

One part solitude.

One part soul searching.

and finish with a love story.

I feel like I have been reawakened.

silent house

I'm not used to no one being here.  I always think I will revel in the quiet until it is just too quiet.  My girls have been gone five days, another seven days until they return.  I am a little lost without them. The house feels frighteningly big.  I try to remember those days I would hold my head and wish for solitude.  Solitude, your tricky thing you.  I make the most of it, knowing it's a tiny glimpse of what is to come.