I've been circling the idea of fostering cats, in some way or another, for a few months now. I had accepted that it was a matter of WHEN, not IF. I had originally thought that our first foster experience would be kittens, to help with kitten season.
I was wrong.
Friday night, I learned that there were six cats in need of a foster home.
No, I did not take all six. But after a long discussion on how we can make it work, we decided that we could pull it off. After a couple of emails and a phone call yesterday, I agreed to go in around lunch time today to take two of them.
They're both great cats, and are already making good progress in adjusting to their new temporary home. Granted, I have made it really easy for them... they each have their own litter box, their own sets of food and water dishes, a brand new scratching post and one of those cardboard scratcher things, new toys, and several choices for soft places to sleep. Yeah, I was overly excited about it this morning. It may have been overkill to clean and air out a room to please two cats, or perhaps to go to the store and buy them all of that stuff, but it made me happy to feel like I was prepared for them.
It seems that Mitchell, so far, has staked his claim on the bed, and Patches likes the soft fuzzy blanket stretched across the radiator cover in front of the window. Both purr and make kneading motions with their paws when one or both of us go in to see how they're doing. Patches keeps bumping his nose against mine, and Mitchell has already snuggled up against me, using my arm as a pillow, purring like a madman.
|OK, Patches does spend some time on the bed too.|
It's going to be an interesting and fun summer, boys!