Emmy was hard to return. Although she’s only been with us two weeks, she really found her place in our home. She fit in well: talkative, heat-seeking, and assertive about her needs. She and I just bonded.
So returning her to the Michigan Humane Society was tough today. I’ve liked most of our foster cats, but a few are special, and letting go of those is a tougher. As my younger and I walked down to the cat rooms, a foster employee stage whispered, “If you want them, we have great fosters for you!” Before she elaborated I knew she had kittens, but before I could ask, she continued, “Six babies, each under a pound and about five weeks old!”
My younger squealed with the delight only six kittens, each able to fit your hand, can bring. What can I say? His joy was infectious, as was the staff’s pleasure that we’d care for such a brood until they recovered from their kitten cold and gained enough weight to be adoptable. Of course they came home with us.
On the way home, I called my older to share the news. His jumps (audible through the phone) and yells said it all. “You said never more than four at a time again, Mom! And now we have SIX!!”
He’s right. After a particularly worm-infested (read: poopy in the wrong places) set of five, I swore to keep the kitten-count under that level. But these babies needed us. And the five hadn’t been that difficult, had they? I’m a bit of a sucker for cats in need but much more of one for the joy of my sons, especially in dreary January. So here they are. Yoda, Obi, Chewie,Sam, Rosalind, and Irene. Stuffy, sneezy, and adorable. And I’m smiling, but perhaps I’m just out of my mind.