In case you haven’t noticed, my personal photo shows a kitten cavorting through the meadows. It doesn’t jive with a person who writes about dogs, and owns a rather large, wolf-like German shepherd cross. There is a reason. Truth is, I’m a cat person. My MSN picture shows a small grey kitten pointing a semi-automatic weapon out a window. I call her Assassination Kitty; her motto is, “Mess with me and I’ll blow your guts out.” She seems too aggressive for a blog persona, so I chose kitty-romping-through-the-meadow for the blog.
Then, almost two years ago, we were hosting an evening party for a friend when two kittens made an appearance at our front door. They had pink flea collars, but were dirty and skinny and much too young to be wandering the streets. All the children were delighted, and half the party moved outside to play with them. Our kids, especially The Eldest, who is a cat person like me, wanted to take them inside, but there was no way with 60 people in the house and The Spouse who would end up wheezing and possibly in the ER. When the party was over, I shut the door firmly in the kitties’ little faces (feeling like a monster as I did), and told the kids we’d do “something” if they were still there in the morning.
In the course of trying to place the kitties, one of the rescue organizations asked if we would consider fostering dogs. I was intrigued. It was a way to 1) save an animal from death row, and 2) have all the fun of pet ownership with few of the responsibilities. We just had to provide food and exercise. The rescue would pay vet bills and be in charge of the search for the “forever” home. After talking it over for a few weeks, we agreed to give it a try. And thus began the journey from petless people to dog park denizens. (To be continued…)