Betty Sue, my most recent foster, was feeling poorly. (Don't worry - Nobody dies in this post.) Sometimes she'd act okay, and sometimes she'd sit all hunched up, like she was in pain. She was on steroids for suspected IBS, but the vet wasn't sure that was the correct diagnosis. And when it got so she was hardly eating, I called the foster coordinator. Who decided that Betty Sue could use a little observation. So Betty Sue went back to the FC's for a visit. And in return, I got Molly.
Molly is ten years old. Her elderly owner went to live with a daughter who owned dogs. Molly did not care for the dogs. And so, BAM, into the foster system she went. *sigh* I would like to expound a little bit on the necessity of having a contingency plan for your pets should something happen to you, but I'll save the lecture for another post. Aren't you glad?
Like most new fosters, Molly spent the first twenty-four hours or so hidden under the bed in the spare room. And then she started making furtive exploratory forays out into the rest of the house. I think she may have cataracts - her eyes have an almost-cloudy, sorta-scratchy look. But it doesn't seem to bother her. So far Romeo and Mouse are giving her space, unlike poor Betty Sue, whom they delighted in tormenting. So far ... we'll see how it goes.
And poor Molly, I'll try to stop singing "Good golly Miss Molly, sure likes to ba - oops, sorry honey" to you. Honest. I need another song with the name "Molly" in it. Anybody got any suggestions?