On Saturday, three little kittens will be coming to visit with Little Girl and I.
Wait! Wait! I can explain!
If you've been reading here a while, you may recall how The Runt died suddenly in April. And then Little Girl was diagnosed with heart disease, the same thing that killed her brother.
And then Little Girl went on meds and improved tremendously, and I decided to try to find her a cat companion, as she missed her brother so.
Well. A couple of disastrous attempts at adoption followed, and I decided to give it a break.
And then I read about a new cat-rescue group starting up. And they were looking for foster homes for kittens. And I thought, that could be a possibility. If I fostered, Little Girl would get a chance to meet potential companions on a limited basis. If she didn't like them, they would go on to the adoption center. If she DID like one, I could adopt it as her new companion. Hmmm ...
I KNOW, right? Trying this again is like going back to an asshole ex-boyfriend. You know you shouldn't do it, and you're embarrassed to admit it to your friends, but you just can't help yourself.
I called the rescue group. I explained the situation with Little Girl and I. They were willing to meet my terms.
And so on Saturday morning, Samson and Delilah, two twelve-week-olds, will be coming to visit. Along with Dumplin*, a six week old boy, who evidently became attached to the other two when they were staying at the foster coordinator's home. They need a place to stay until the adoption center has room for them. They will be staying in my spare bedroom while Little Girl gets to know them. If she doesn't like them, if they scare her, if she starts to stress out, they will move on. If she DOES like them, well ... one may be staying. But I'm not counting on that at all. I'm not counting on anything right now.
And I can just SEE you guys out there, shaking your heads in disgust, wondering what in the hell is WRONG with me for trying again.
I don't know what's wrong with me. I just know that I have to try.
Another crackpot scheme, about to hatch.
*WHO picks out these NAMES? Gah.