So yeah, I decided to foster again. Because I am INSANE. And here is what the kitten truck delivered to my door:
That's Delilah. She is twelve weeks old or so. She and her brother were found by the side of Route 12, a busy road. She is a brat, a drama queen, and too damn cute. Look how the polka-dots on her side swirl into a circle! Too. Cute.
Here's her brother, Samson:
And here's little Dumplin:
Dumplin is only six weeks old.
(Oh! As an aside, I did not pick these names. They were named by the foster coordinator. If there are three names that I would be LEAST likely to name a cat, it would be these. Plus, every time I try to say "Dumplin", it comes out "Pumpkin" or "Bumpkin" or "Dumpin", so there's that. Cut me some slack.)
So! Dumplin is six weeks old. He weighs ... nothing. Okay, okay, maybe he weighs ... as much as a feather. Seriously, it's like picking up a handful of furry air.
And how is Little Girl dealing with this invasion, you ask? Little Girl has chosen to believe that there are NO KITTENS IN THE SPARE ROOM, oh no there are no kittens in there at all nononono. Kitten? What's a kitten?
She's doing okay. She gives the ol' stink eye to the spare room every time she goes near it, because she can SMELL and HEAR that there's something in there, but I put up a screen door in the spare room door frame and covered the bottom half with posterboard, so she can't actually SEE that there are k-words in there. And that's the way she prefers it.
And there you have it. Samson, Delilah and Dumplin. All available for adoption right here in Upstate New York, so come get your kittens! They're waiting for you!
(and you can change their names once you adopt. I PROMISE.)