Oh my God you guys, I am really at a crossroads here, so I'm just gonna splat it all out.
Last Wednesday, I took Evil Momma and the foster kittens back to the shelter. I was already thinking of adopting The Runt and Little Girl, but I was torn, because I really enjoyed the foster experience, and The Runt and Little Girl were both orange, and I was never partial to orange cats, and while they were cute adorable kittens now they would grow up to be ordinary cats, and after losing Rocky in February after 15 years was I really ready for more cats so soon, and what if I didn't adopt them and they found better homes with people with more money, but oh my God I'd miss The Runt, and blah blah blah .........
On Friday, I stopped at the shelter to visit the fosters, and they were still upstairs in intake because there was some respiratory thing making the rounds of the adoption center, and they were all glad to see me and I told the volunteers that I wanted The Runt and Little Girl, and filled out the paperwork, and was told the shelter would call when they could be released. And even as I walked out the door I was not sure I was making the right decision (see agonizing above).
All weekend, as I waited for a call from the shelter, I worried and worried and WORRIED about the decision, and actually managed to work myself into a full-blown panic attack on Sunday, with the difficulty breathing and the chest pains and the whole nine yards.
By last night, the shelter STILL had not called (is it a sign? oh sweet jeeezus), and I took a deep breath, called the foster coordinator, and told her I had decided not to adopt and wanted to continue fostering instead. She asked if I could do another foster right away, and I said yes, and so right now I have this fucking fat monstrosity of a cat who FARTS constantly in my home for the next sixty days and I'm thinking that oh my God I WANT THE RUNT BACK and I have no idea what to do. I am really seriously thinking about stopping at the shelter after work and explaining that I have changed my mind ONCE AGAIN and I want to bring back the fucking fat farting cat and get The Runt and Little Girl.
Oh, you guys, I know I asked you for help on this once before and you TOLD ME WHAT TO DO and I DID NOT TAKE YOUR ADVICE and oh help help help me please.......... am I insane if I go to the shelter tonight and tell them I want The Runt and Little Girl ......... having trouble breathing again ...... please help .........
UPDATED TO ADD:
It is done.
As soon as I finished writing the above, I knew I was being ridiculous. I simply HAD to have The Ruuuuunnnnnnttt and Little Girl. I went flying out of the office (sorry, Boss, I'll explain it all tomorrow), sped to the shelter, and talked to the woman who runs the shelter. I explained my situation, trying to sound *not insane*, and to my surprise, she totally understood. She said that they would find another foster home for gigantic farting cat, and I could take home The Runt and Little Girl. I am to call her tomorrow at noon to make arrangements for the transfer.
I am so relieved! My heart was telling me all along what to do, and my mind refused to listen, blocking my heart with nine million "what-ifs". I think the panic attack on Sunday should have been my cue, but GOD FORBID I actually LISTEN to what my heart (and the Internet!) is telling me. I think there's a lesson here for me.
So! While I feel bad about crapping out on the whole foster deal, for it is truly a worthy undertaking and I recommend it highly, by the end of the week The Runt and Little Girl will be back home with me.