June 8: Foster Parent

A year ago, we brought Naomi into our lives as a foster cat. We promptly failed at fostering her, and adopted her. She makes me proclaim daily that life with a tuxedo cat is simply better.

I get periodic updates from ARL about cats needing foster homes. We always take a moment to look at them all. We always sigh and reflect on if we have room for a kitty and the time to invest in ensuring it's well loved and ready for a forever family.

This summer, we decided to once again open our home to a foster kitty. After all, everyone deserves a safe, loving home. Cats are no exception. I have a home office with room for a cat bed and litter box. Inevitable we'd host a kitty once we figured out the logistics. We are big on the underdog around here.

The bulletin came out. We perused. There he was. Our foster kitty. Like America's Most Wanted on a sheet of cast-off cats who hated shelter living and needed a home to make them believe people were a good idea again.

ARL called him Tony, but Aria has dubbed him Toby.

Toby had his neutering surgery the day we picked him up. He spent the first day and night hiding behind the desk, feeling groggy and probably just a little upset with life. I only had glimpses of this tail. How cute is this tail? (Ignore the litter all over – Toby had a hey day in the box upon entering the room - we've worked out those kinks mostly).

 Then came peek-a-boo. 

Aria made a blanket fort and slept with him so he'd get used to her voice and smell. She whispered to him that he didn't know it yet, but he'd love her. He took exploratory trips from behind the desk, but still held back. He'd hide, purring gloriously from the corner. The tease.

Day 2: Aria decided what he needed was a good dose of cat nip. Gosh, was she right.

He's like that quiet guy you work with who hasn't uttered a word other than a mumbled, "Good morning" if he cannot avoid you in the halls. You take that guy, place a beer in his hand and suddenly, he's a one man song and dance act ready for the road. From 0-60 with nary a sip necessary. The placebo effect. That's Toby on catnip.

One taste of cosmic catnip (I kind of wonder what they put in that stuff and if I should try it - in brownies perhaps?), and he's everybody's cat. He loves you, and you, and you, and you and you. (I so just pictured the Von Trapp children singing - did you hear it also it? So long, farewell...). 

He purrs like he's a fine sports car. He wants to snuggle. All. The. Time. Rubs against your legs begging to be petted. With both hands.

We’re totally going to fail at fostering again…. And I'm not even a tiny little bit concerned I might becoming the crazy cat lady who is single and covered in cat hair. Not even a teeny tiny bit. 

As Aria so lovingly pointed out, "We are bringing a boy into the house, mama. That's huge." Yes, yes it is.

Edie Carey - Chemistry