Chani, the last of Mom’s kittens at 19. She had seen hundreds of fosters come and go.
A blanket of snow covered north Texas, when I answered the phone. Mary Hamilton, a friend of mine, had found a hungry cat trembling next to the front door of her apartment. Obviously, someone had moved away and left the little silver tabby cat behind to fend for herself. Mary, who was not an animal person but has a heart as big as Texas, brought the starving kitty into her apartment, to thaw her out. With a $500 pet deposit threatening her, the Hamilton home could only offer emergency shelter. The sooner she could go elsewhere the better.
Mary called me and begged me to take the stray.”She’s a really nice cat,” Mary assured me. Oh yeah, she forgot to mention, the cat was “a little pregnant.”
What qualified me to take a pregnant cat? “Hey,” Mary said, “You already have a cat.”
Mom her kittens helped open Dusty’s door to homeless cats like handsome Bevo.
I felt like Prissy in Gone with the Wind. I didn’t know nothin’ ’bout birthing no babies! But three weeks later Mama had six beautiful kittens, no two alike. When they were old enough, I enlisted the help of the Humane Society of Lewisville, the only no-kill rescue group in the area. I religiously took the kitties to adopt-a-pets, baking under the hot Texas sun. At the time, McDonald’s was the only place that would give us permission to hold adoption events in their parking lot. We found homes for Mama and four of the kittens.
I kept my two favorites, Chani and Regged. The kittens made it to 17 and 19 years respectively. I jokingly told friends I was still looking for a home, but would never have let them go.
As I sat in that steamy parking lot with all the other cat foster families, I realized that there were so many cats who needed homes. The small rescue group simply didn’t have enough foster homes. I was haunted by the kitties the group brought to the adopt-a-pets, but had to return to animal control to a certain and unfortunate fate if they didn\’t get adopted. The one-afternoon adoption event at least gave them a chance they wouldn’t have had at the shelter.
I volunteered to take a cute little gray kitten I named Seryi, Russian for blue. The little cutie got adopted very quickly. Since Seryi’s adopt made room in my house, I took in another, then another. Today five 8-week old kittens are playing cliffing climbers on the back of my antique recliner.
Mama and Chani and Regged changed my life. It’s been 25 years since I opened my home to that poor little abandoned kitty.
I guess that means I’m now eligible for my silver water bowl. I’ve suffered from foster failure several times along the way, but most of the kitties were adopted into great homes.
I even married a guy who had more kitties than I had and who feels as passionate about saving homeless cats as I do. On our third date we rescued a three-week old orphan kitten. When she was weaned, Shasta was adopted by my next door neighbors. My full time job is now writing about cat (pet) care and rescue. I’m a huge advocate of rescue and adoption.
I look back at my life 25 years ago. I can’t believe how saving that one little abandoned mama has changed my life. Where would I be, what would I be doing had I told my friend Mary to take the cat to the pound? I shudder to think.
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