Most of my cats had a rough start in life, which is the standard for cats in this part of the country. They have so few supporters, possibly due to the misconception that they have no personality, that they're not real pets, that they're not...dogs.
This is Alexander. My boys call him Lil' B. He and his sibling were found hungry and alone, motherless at four weeks old. His sibling ran from their finders. We don't know what happened to him. But Alex was brought to me to be part of our foster program. Terrified at first, he hissed at me, but never attempted to bite or scratch. I gave him toys, but he seemed to have no idea how to play. My son spent time working with him and within days, Alex was purring and playing and cuddling. He's a bit mischevious, refusing to back down from anything. But his favorite thing is to curl up in my arms and stare up into my face as if to say, "Thank you." Unless someone local expresses interest in him, he will be headed on to Last Chance kitten railroad in a few weeks to be adopted in Maryland. That will hurt because fostering is so much easier when you know the families your babies are going to. But I trust those at Last Chance to find him a wonderful home.
This is Mariah. We found her at the pound where she had just given birth to a litter of kittens. She was skin and bones then, too young to be a mother and barely able to feed her babies. We brought her to our headquarters and made sure she had plenty to eat. When space opened up at my house, I brought her home to foster. Today, you can see she is in no danger of starving. This cherubic girl can be very chatty and spends much of her time lying on her back. She loves to play with the other cats and will even play chase with the big dog's tail. But make no mistake. She is not to be trifled with. Her first month here, she was bullied by another foster cat, Punky. I warned Punky that there is something in Mariah that says she won't be pushed very far. I was right. The tables have turned and Mariah now takes great pleasure in chasing Punky into some precarious position and sitting back to watch her bewilderment. Mariah subscribes to the "Don't start nothin, won't be nothin" mindset...and Punky started somethin.
Ah my Punky. She's beautiful, no? I brought Punky home to foster nearly a year and a half ago. Her momma had become homeless and, instead of carrying Punky from place to place forcing her to live in a crate, she asked us to take her. Punky was so traumatized by all of this that she refused to leave my basement for more than a month. When she did finally venture upstairs, she spent her time tormenting my cat, Gracie. When I brought a litter of 3-week old kittens home to bottlefeed, she laid in wait outside the bathroom growling and threatening them should they ever be so bold as to leave that little room. In time, she established an understanding with Gracie. And when she realized that one of the kittens, Pierre, was here to stay, she learned to deal with him, too. (This was after he smacked her a few times upside the head to let her know he wasn't impressed by her attitude.) A few months ago, Punky came to my room, crawled under the blanket, and curled up close to me. She stayed there the entire night. She was telling me that she is finally ok. (And someone please tell me how I am supposed to let her go to a new home after that?)
This is my Pierre. We call him Stinky Butt. Stinky for short. He had a medical condition as a kitten that caused him to smell really bad. With medication, he is almost normal. Still, I liken him to Pig-Pen. He's always a mess. He is my little cuddler, always wanting to be where I am. Since I bottle-fed him and his siblings from 3 weeks old, he is very attached. He will get into anything, believing that the rules and boundaries I set are only for the cats...and he's not a cat. He's a kid. He loves the big dog, often cuddling up beside him when I am busy. He sleeps every night curled up next to my legs. And he wakes me every morning by pouncing firmly on my bladder to let me know it's time to get up and make breakfast! Quite honestly, he is like one of those annoyingly cheerful morning people, which I am not. (Oh, and he's not available for adoption. He's my baby.)
And then there is my sweet Gracie. She is the little girl that turned me into a cat person. She is the tiny little thing I took home to foster almost two years ago. Within an hour, she had stolen my heart and I knew she had already found her forever home. She is a gentle soul, easily accepting any new fosters into our home, eagerly sharing her food and toys, willingly giving up her spot at the window. She asks for little, but gives love and affection without restraint. She forgives quickly and loves unconditionally. And no, she is not available for adoption either.
Think you're not a cat person? They require little more than a daily feeding and litterbox scooping. They give you all the love, companionship, and entertainment of a dog without the hassle.
Try fostering just one. If you don't fall in love, then no harm done. But I believe you will be converted as quickly as I was. And then you'll wonder why everyone doesn't have a cat!
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