I wasn’t planning to write another post about the kittens… but it became clear to me I was not CLEAR: I cannot keep them all until the glorious day when someone also wants Webster.
Webster’s kittens are going to the adoption center tomorrow.
I love them.
As much as you can imagine.
I would give anything to keep my flopsy Elvis monkey.
Baby Sprout and her tiger stripes.
But they do not NEED me.
I had room for them.
Because I gave up the ones before.
Others are waiting.
If they wait too long, they are euthanized.
If you would like to be the new family of TWO rambunctious furmunchkins.
Sprout and young G.I. Elvis, must go together.
Otherwise, they will drive their new family crazy.
If you’d like to also adopt an old-man lion… you could be the hero of the internet and also me because I am going to be pelted with rotting fruit.
Sprout— I could tell people that Sprout is a ferocious animal who will eat your face… and people would still be like omgcanihaveher. The most beautiful cat I’ve ever fostered– her fur gets more amazing by the day. She is as sweet as she looks… but not as brave as Elvis.
Elvis— ELVIS LOVES THE WORLD. She runs right out into it HULLLOO WORLD I LOVE YOU. Her tummy fur and under-chin fur and also her sleeping-pterodactyl-noise-if-you-disturb-naptime… will fill your heart with ALL THE LOVE.
Also, she suffers from extreme flopsy-ness.
When you hold her— she just FLOPS INTO YOU… like kitten spaghetti.
She has zero bones when sleeping.
OG Elvis suffered too.
If you are unfamiliar— OG Elvis is here.
Not The King.
I like him too.
But not as much.
Elvis is an entirely new level of love existence.
Holding her soothes my brain.
The BACK rooms of animal shelters are full of cats.
NOT the ones you can SEE.
The OTHER ONES.
Most of them are adults.
They need help before they can even be seen by potential adopters.
That is why I took Webster: to see if I could help him.
If I had kept the previous adults.
I would not have had space for Webster.
No one would have learned that he does NOT hate other animals… But RATHER is a giant lovelicker who adores his Sprouty SO MUCH that sometimes I am worried he is going to remove ALL of the fur from her body.
Here is the post where everyone fell in love with Webster and his kittens.
This cat was a LUMP.
Now he COMES DOWNSTAIRS and PLAYS with his friends.
He LOOKS ferocious when he is GETTING them… but he is SO careful– he is not actually getting them.
Also. He GETS them in the most comical rusty Frankenstein: I AM GETTING YOU.
I made a stab at editing the first 30 seconds of the video… but decided to let the end of the song play out to Elvis and Sprout doing the I’m-sleeping-but-cleaning-but-also-killing-you… because who am I to decide how much kittens and Webby you’d enjoy this morning?
Of course, I would love to send them all together.
But hitching Webster to the kittens will change how fast… if ever.
Not fair to the babies.
Webster has done himself an unfavor.
I know about these.
But this one.
I wish I could just text you.
I wish I didn’t have to tell you here, publicly.
Because after my mother reads this next part, she is going to send the police to my house and have me arrested.
At Webster’s umpteenth home, apparently, a member of the family moved back in, something something, brought animals, something something… and Webster started going outside the litter box.
If you think I am just Catlady Buddy the Elf— oooooooh! THAT SOUNDS FUN!
Fostering is part being an interpreter.
Part being a PR agent.
I wasn’t sure I wanted this client.
But when I looked in his face.
I WANTED to help him.
I am deeply thankful I did.
Webster is a lovely houseguest.
And the very best nanny.
But he still believes the garbage truck is Satan.
He has been perfect with the litter box; with the added bonus that if you have kittens that need cleaning, he will devote himself.
He is sweet and kind and has not even minded that two lunaticpoopers have pooped up his box… EVEN THOUGH THEY ARE PROHIBITED.
I would be lying if I omitted how I was very concerned that Webster would have an issue sharing his litter box with the kittens. But trying to keep kittens OUT of something that is PUBLICLY AVAILABLE is a fool’s errand.
So I was on extreme hall monitor duty.
But once again… the kittens were instrumental in understanding him: he loves to share with his friends.
Webster DOES ask to sleep near you at night.
And also afternoon.
But he will settle for whatever time you have for him.
He will not bug you.
But also if you want to scratch his head all day that is preferable.
But also if you want to give him kittens, he will be eternally grateful.
Also, he has an occasionally itchy ear which I have attacked with endless vet-appointed-drops-ointments-etc… no difference, just me driving us both nuts.
I am now certain that Webster would love ANY animal who wanted to be his friend.
And that is extraordinary!
But for me to bring in OTHER adult cats— sick, nervous, have been through SO MUCH; and now in a NEW place… with the presence of some unknown adult cat lurking around.
I am trying to MINIMIZE everyone’s stress level.
I am a swamp person.
In my world, stressful situations have a way of compounding themselves; I don’t know when to STOP WADING INTO THE MUCK… so… I just KEEP GOING… until I have eight cats in my house and fourtysevenhundred outside and TNRTNRTNR until I want to go lie in the street and hope someone runs me over.
I am attempting to remember:
all of this is a terrible system.
but it’s the only one.
i don’t have better.
just keep trying?
or accept that nothing matters and give up?
either way is awful.
so i choose the way with kittens.
I need to find Webster a forever home.
Let me tell you a little bit more about him:
Webster is not at all aggressive; his instinct is to RUN and HIDE if he gets frightened.
Easily startled— terror is his default.
But a big love– his favorite is just sitting with you.
He LOVES to play with the kittens; but before they were with him, I tried to play with him– with some string– and he LOST HIS MIND WITH TERROR… which, fair enough; why would someone just THROW STRING AT YOU.
I call him my old-man lion because his fur shoots out from the lower sides of his face… giving him a look that IS lion-y, (although, a disheveled, partly-toothless lion).
But ALSO because he also does this thing where he throws his head back while rubbing his face/mouth all over your hand.
While he is doing this, he opens his mouth so that he is purring and breathing through his open mouth and the noise is just the funniest thing— like a grumbling lion.
I call it The Mauling.
A hundred times I thought— this cat is about to CHOMP me.
And he has never even thought about it.
When the suffering of another creature causes you to feel pain, do not submit to the initial desire to flee from the suffering one, but on the contrary, come closer, as close as you can to her who suffers, and try to help her. — Leo Tolstoy