Of course, the above isn't true. Day one, dead mouse lay on the back deck. Day two, the inedible part of a dead mouse lay upchucked on the back deck. Day three, dead squirrel lay on the garage floor and sneaked out before I could retrieve it. Day four, the inedible remains of a dead squirrel lay upchucked on the back deck. Day five, two dead baby robins lay side by side under the back deck... No respectable wildlife garden would ever have a loose cat roaming the grounds...never, until now. I'm not thrilled.
I think tonight this post will just come from my heart, and lately it has felt like it is breaking in half. I cry a little, I cry a lot, I'm so sick and tired of crying when I start thinking too much. Two of the kittens found a foster home. I should be ecstatic, right? All I do is worry about the other two. Chasing the feathers tied to the string tied to the pole...it's the only way I know to get them friendly enough to touch. If I can't catch them, they're not adoptable...like they really have any chance, do you think?
Luck of the draw, the only factor with the first two. Some rescue group for some reason chose me out of the hundreds of desperate calls, and reminded me over and over that it was for only two...the two friendliest. Like I had a choice. Two only were friendly enough to catch. Two that are now living in someone's home, cozy and warm with fat tummies. The others might be so lucky, if they don't grow up too fast, and if I can pull a miracle out of my empty head.
Stressed out over her becoming pregnant again, the little mother (Charlotte) was boarded a day, spayed and shots received the next day, and then boarded again a third day until she was level headed enough to be out on her own. With flea, tick, and heartworm prevention, I bought extra time, like I really know what to do with this extra time.
Just a little note on transporting an adult feline that has never been put into a portable pet carrier ever in her short life...an experience I'd rather not live through again. Top loading carriers are great for in and out. They are also fantastic for those razor sharp claws jutting through the metal bars of the top in hopes of grabbing some tender flesh off a few of your fingers while she's a manic freaking out feline in a psycho frenzy bouncing off the four walls of her prison. Thick work gloved me carrying a growling hissing furry spitball livened up the vet clinic quite well.
Her sibling or child, the one that lived with her in the neighbors junk heap of rotting furniture last winter moved in the day before yesterday. I tried chasing him to kingdom come, but they have a connection...mother and brother...mother and son...whatever, it's a very close one. She's upset when I run him off. Now I'm stuck with him also.
The inside one
So.....during all this, that little jackrat terrier of mine decides to make my house his house with me as the guest, I guess. Peeing and pooping to his hearts content in the back bedroom, it quickly escalated to a test of who would win in the battle of wills, and it wasn't going to be that terrier no matter what his little pea pickin' brain was telling him. It all came to an end when I became a very uncool mom and squished his little black nose into all that pee and poop. Now, if I could just get him to quit snacking on kitty turds faster than the little tyke can pop them out...(sigh)...he's such a disgusting connoisseur of those poopy little snacks.
THE JOB. Sucks! Vic's leave was canceled and he won't be home the first part of June as planned. I'm devastated. I need to escape the work place, and who better to do it with than my lesser half :) My boss, upon hearing my news, said he was sad for me, but also glad. Why would he even think he had a right to say that to me? I do my job well, and I get used quite a bit because of that. His star doesn't shine bright for me anymore. He's on my **** list for a while.