Good times and bad

When a new cat arrived, we kept it isolated and promptly made an appointment with the vet where it was thoroughly checked out and inoculated.

Often, cats had injuries like poor little Liam.

Some got homes very quickly and Liam was one of those. His nose had not healed before he was scooped up. Ginger cats are popular and of course kittens too.

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Liam’s nose healed nicely and he grew to be very handsome.

Most didn’t, but I was so happy when the adopting family sent updates, because it was comforting to see that they looked happy.

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Taking in numerous cats was challenging because we had to figure out how to match them up, since we only had three rooms and we couldn’t have them fighting.

Once they were cleared by the vet, we brought them into the smaller room, then opened the connecting doors one at a time and observed. Amazingly, we had very little trouble, although certain cats got on better and gravitated to either one of the larger rooms.

When we were there, the doors were opened and the cats could mingle and wander into the corridor and sometimes the garage. Or they would check out the muddle of boxes and bits in the small part of the basement that was dedicated to storage of our stuff.

Piero developed the habit of jumping onto a trash can in the garage to be fussed over and Oliver liked inspecting my car.

Not often, but occasionally people wanted two cats so they could be companions.

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Although I had a website, I also posted the cat’s pictures on Petfinder and occasionally on Craigslist, although I was very cautious about the latter.

A lady came to meet Grayson and they hit it off. She wanted him to have a playmate and asked us to decide who it should be as she sensibly felt we would have an idea which cat might be more compatible.

So Gus and Grayson went off together and occasionally I got updates from them.

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It was heart-warming to see that we had chosen well.

Adoptions often led to more cats and stories…

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The lady who adopted Gus and Grayson had a sister who found an abandoned cat, so we got a call to see if we could take it.

As we entered the apartment, a beautiful creature gazed at us placidly. I don’t know for sure, but it seemed to me that she was a Somali. She had a lovely temperament.

Those eyes got to me. Would my upstairs gang accept one more? I gave it a try, but the dynamics didn’t work and Willow met with gentle opposition. Trying to force the issue would not have been fair on any of them, so I reluctantly took her back down to the foster suite and posted her for adoption.

Quite soon an elderly couple came to meet her. They were very enthusiastic and their home was nice, so we let Willow go and it was another adoption we were happy with.

And another that proved how wrong we sometimes were.

Six year after Willow’s adoption, I had taken down my website and stopped accepting cats because I was left with many that proved unadoptable due to age, health conditions or temperament. To overfill the rooms would be irresponsible, not to mention unaffordable.

Which didn’t totally stop the influx…

Grant got a call one day from a shelter north of Seattle. One of his cats had been rescued and brought in! None was missing, but he got details from the unimpressed volunteer…

As well as having all our cats inoculated, we had them chipped and when they were adopted, we turned over the details of the chip, urging the adopter to update the information with their own contacts. Fortunately, Willow’s people hadn’t done so, which is why Grant got the call.

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Needless to say, we were horrified to learn that Willow had been abandoned – again and by the people we thought had been so perfect for her. Not only that, but there were two other cats with her. We wanted to rush straight off to get them, but the shelter told us we would have to wait ten days in case the owner came for them.

Waiting was awful. Meanwhile, Grant made enraged phone calls. He was unable to get in touch with the owners, but he somehow reached their son. Willow’s people had retired and decided to go travelling. Instead of bringing her back to us, they instead passed her on to their son who was on the point of getting a divorce, which soon saw him moving out and leaving Willow with his wife and her two other cats. She, in due course, also departed abandoning the three to fend for themselves in the yard.

Relating this story to the shelter did not persuade them to release the cats any sooner, but the moment the ten days were up, we were on their doorstep waiting for them to open and of course we took all three.

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Willow’s companions were an elderly pair. The Himalayan was called Sasha but we already had a Sasha, (though she came to be better known as Dee Dee). I chose a name from the Himalayas: Sikkim, but Grant never took to it, insisting on calling her Muffin.

The black cat was called Ninja. We were told it was because she was aggressive. We very soon worked out that she was in fact a very sweet, gentle cat that was suffering badly from arthritis and when handled carelessly, she was apt, understandably, to bite. I chose the name Penny after my aunt’s sweet cocker spaniel. It suited our new friend.

And they would be our friends. No way would we put these cats up for adoption and subject them to possible further abandonment. Somehow we would manage.

Such very precious friends Penny and Muffin became, travelling with us to New York the year after their rescue and they were dearly loved for the rest of their days.

Willow, sadly, did not make that journey. Just 13 days after we collected the three from the shelter, Grant went to offer breakfasts and found her lying dead. There was no point in doing an autopsy. The vet had checked the cats out and there was no concern over a contagious disease. Willow had been healthy, so we have no idea what took her life.

That, certainly, was the hardest moment of the foster years.

But we have to remember the good times and there were many of those…