Adventures in Fostering

As long as I can remember, I’ve wanted a furry pet. Growing up, we had fish and toads and frogs. These were awesome experiences for my brothers and I, but it’s hard to cuddle with amphibians, adorable though they may be. Because E and I are both varying degrees of super-organized, detailed planners, commitment-phobic, overly financially responsible, and not sure where the next few years will take us, it hasn’t seemed like the right time to adopt little furballs of our own yet (plus, our current living situation, though it is perfect in every other way, doesn’t allow us to keep dogs).

Enter fostering! As fosters, we’re responsible for housing, feeding, and generally caring for animals until they are adopted by a loving family. We finally made the plunge a week ago, and visited the shelter planning to pick up a pair or trio of young-ish (1-2 years) cats who needed some lovin’ and a place to play away from the crowded shelter.

We left with a litter of 5 six-week old kittens. Captain Jack, Pearl, Hector, Ziggy and Princess have been terrorizing the bathroom and tearing around the living room ever since! We’ve had our share of struggles with getting them to eat and poop the right items in the right places, as well as the added stress of having one come injured (Ziggy, the gorgeous tiger-faced kit has a little peg-leg) and one get very sick (Pearl is the runt, and had some trouble eating which is very dangerous for a kitten who weighs less than a pound to start with).

Let’s have me stop rambling, and get to what everyone is actually interested in: pictures of the kittens!
















Yes, they are painfully cute. Yes, they will have to leave us soon to go to permanent homes and it will be heartbreaking to say goodbye. And thank goodness for the batch of heart jerky we made last week, because that’s the only thing it’s possible to eat when you have a sick kitten whose only desire in the world is to be curled in a ball on your warm lap.

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