the foster cat

I always knew someday I'd get this call

Hey babe, sooo......I'm bringing an animal home...

He explained (quickly, since I'm pretty sure he could hear my body tensing over the phone) that it was temporary,  it was a cat who'd been lost and found by some friends of ours and it needed a home until it could be found by it's owners or given a permanent family. A foster cat of sorts. The friends' other pets were not getting along with him and he needed a better place, and they had litter and food for us. Okay. I'll admit I got a little excited, a practice pet with no-strings-attached didn't sound like a bad idea, maybe even fun? But I was still terrified that all of our things would be ruined. I also just felt bad for the little thing, and either way, I knew it would be an adventure for us.

If we were going to have a cat even for a short amount of time, I wanted to name it. So I made an awesome cat name list, I'll share it with you.

Cat Names

Foster (foster cat)
Millard
Gatsby
Bono
Bjursta (our IKEA table)
Siri
Boy George
Hemingway
Katniss
Captain Moody (chosen by 3yo N♥)
Frank Sinatra
Gigabyt
Pandora
Weezy
Lunchbox
Maybe
Tumblr
Toaster
Bowie
Oates
Stewie
Doogie Meowser (definitely a favorite)

It arrived (a he) and we decided to call him Foster. He quickly stalked around the apartment, checking everything out and immediately rubbing up on us, circling our legs and purring for pets and scratches. He was working to win me over, I suspected he had been coached by my husband on the drive home and it made me smile. "I just won't let him on the couch" I said, still nervous. Then he found a perfect spot to curl up and take a nap - on the couch. I couldn't be mad at the poor kitty, he was skinny and dirty and a little scratched up from being outside. Dirty. Dirty on my couch. Oh my gosh. He cuddled with my husband who just looked so happy and comfortable with him, it was the sweetest thing. But on my couch.

This happened.

He would follow us from room to room. "Absolutely not in our bed though" I reminded Jon. When we shut everything off for the night though, Foster followed us to the bedroom. I walked him back to the living room, turned to leave him and he followed me to the room again. I ran back and forth through the hall to see what he would do - he, too, ran back and forth. I couldn't help but laugh, he was so sweet! Oh my gosh, fine just once. He <cringe> slept in our bed.

The next day, Jon had off and I came home from work with a collar for Foster. I wanted him to feel welcome and was so excited to pick out a handsome accessory for him. The boys had done great together that day and Jon was able to do his thing while Foster hung out. He also took care of the litter the whole time thank goodness. Right away too, he'd scoop it and flush it down the toilet at my request, I don't know the rules for litter in toilets but I didn't care because <gag>. I put the collar on him and found a...bug looking...thing on his neck. "Ohh my gosh...what is this. Jon what is this is this a bug looking thing on his neck?!"

"Bug looking thing, what are you talking about? Is it a bug?"

"I don't know what it is that's why I'm asking YOU!"

"Well how can I see it?"

"JUST COME HERE!"

...

"Ohh. Yeah that's a flea."

 AAAAAAHHHHH!

We raced to the pet store to get whatever we needed for the fleas. Jon, having grown up with cats was totally cool about it and knew what to do, I was FREAKING THE HELL OUT. "We're going to have to spray and comb and pick and vacuum and bomb the place twice and vacuum again and the couch our BED oh my GOSH!" <scratch scratch> "oh wait hehe, look at the kitty halloween costumes. Can we get him the Rastafarian hat?"

Snoop Lion

We bought the flea treatment that you put behind their neck, a special comb and a bottle of flea killing spray for the carpet/furniture that doubled as Febreze (yay). The cat slept in the living room that night, and the next morning I got up to immediately start the routine of combing out fleas, dead and alive. Every hour on the hour I'd comb some more, and he sat so well for his combing and cleaning I felt he deserved a treat, so I went to the grocery store and got him some Fancy Feast and a catnip toy. He had no interest in either and when I started to do the dishes and other productive things, he circled my legs, meowing like crazy so I stopped and pet him. Repeat. Repeat. I'd check to make sure if he needed anything, if he was comfortable, entertained, fed and watered, if he'd ruined anything. I'm used to babies, not animals. Obviously. Then the litter. Oh, the litter. Seriously I have been elbows deep in human shit, babies and children of all ages without a problem and for some reason I couldn't come within a few feet of this litter box without retching? I grabbed a slotted spoon (later thrown away) and quickly moved it over to a double bag, tying it off and covering it with a third bag, tying that too and then running it out to the dumpster as fast as I could. Bam. I also realized that he would fall into the box sometimes or drag his tail through "it", so I started grabbing him and wiping him off before he could contaminate everything. Seriously, nicest cat ever, any other cat would have had my eyeballs at that point.

Listen, I understand that some people, a lot of people, are very much pet people. Thank goodness for you because animals need someone! I had a dog I loved during childhood and I adore pets at other people's houses, I'm just not ready (obviously) for my own. And no, that doesn't mean I can't have children...regardless of what many misconceive, those things are not the same. Let me assure you however so no one worries, that no animals were harmed during this adventure. In fact I even kept a patient smile on the whole time out of fear that I would emotionally scar the poor thing if he sensed my stress! Good grief I don't know - do they sense stress? Kitty therapy? I don't know, cats.

Anyways, it was time for Jon to be home soon so I started to make dinner. Suddenly I was worried about kitchen safety for felines. Would he jump in the oven if I opened it? Then I decided to vacuum the carpet. I turned it on and Foster freaked out (as I assumed he would) backing into another room with his back arched and hair standing on end. I figured that would work perfectly, he'd stay in the room out of my way until I was finished. As soon as I turned around though, he decided to attack the big bad vacuum monster - jumping on me from behind, claws out. I jumped and tried to grab him off, knocked the vacuum forward and heard the worst grinding noise ever followed by smoke blowing out as I tried to shut it off. The cat sprinted out of the room as fast as he could while I surveyed the damage.

iPhone charger

My dear sweet husband came home to a really, really clean cat and a really, really frazzled wife. He loves me so, SO much apparently that he arranged to take Foster to my mother-in-law's house (aka cat resort) for the rest of his time in fosterhood, and all was right with the world again. Okay, first I cried because I felt like a horrible human being (you say you aren't a "pet person" and everyone looks at you like a monster incapable of love) then everything was right with the world.

We had a cat for exactly 48 hours, and in the end my brother-in-law wanted him so now we can visit him at his apartment anytime. Also apparently his name has been changed.

Lebowski, aka "The Dude"