Team Orange

Well, we bid adieu to Team Orange last week. They went to another foster home, and I'll be checking to see where they all end up in the weeks ahead. Why did they go to another foster home, you ask? Well, a certain pointy-headed puppy got extremely jealous over all the attention they were getting, and acted out so badly we decided bringing them back was the best course of action.
He crapped in the house.

He tore up the carpeting in the hallway.

He destroyed our futon mattress in two places.

And what was the last straw?

The night he busted out of his LOCKED kennel (which unhappily resides in the kitten room), ate all the kitty litter, ate all the kitten food, peed on the carpet, and took a giant runny shit down the side of my shopvac and onto the floor.

I love Team Orange, but enough was enough. They went right to a new foster home, and Bruin has calmed his wicked ways considerably. I guess taking on four kittens at once was just too much. I hope to foster again in the future, but I'll opt for less kittens, or an older and wiser BruBear.

More Ado About Marley

Poor Miss Marley-O. All these fosters and dogs taking up the attention.

Love you, MO :)

The Itty Bitty Kitty Committee

After the first foster kitten didn't make it, I swore I would NEVER foster again. Ever!

Then, walking through the Stray Cat Room at work, I saw Team Orange. So many of our kittens at work are sick with URI's, and this crew had nary a snuffly nose or gunky eye.

Long story short, they are currently residing in Bruin's kennel for a couple of weeks until they weigh enough to be fixed and put up for adoption.

Go Team Orange!

We'll Miss You, Little Buckaroo...

He never had a name, he was only around for two weeks, but I'll never forget him.

We got an orphaned two week old kitten in at work, and as no one was around to take him home for the night, (he couldn't eat or go to the bathroom on his own), I took him. "Just for the night", and then a foster parent could take him the next day. Well, one night turned into two weeks, and while it was gross throughout (stimulating a cat to poop isn't as cool as it sounds), and heartbreaking at the end, I'm so glad I had him.

Our little bud made himself at home, tried to suckle off the dogs, found nirvana snoozing under shirts in my cleavage, and wobbled around the apartment like an unsteady gray dust bunny. The dogs loved him and quickly learned to "freeze" when he was under foot.


He had bloody diarrhea most of the time, and constant bathing led to a very sore bum for our little friend. He still played and cuddled regardless, although diarrhea turned to bloody diarrhea, and then in the end just blood oozing out. He had medication, but it didn't seem to help. I've been told that such young kittens really need their mothers to survive, that 80% of kittens his age don't make it without the antibodies, nutrition, social training, and emotional support provided by mum. We tried our best, but in the end his little body got cold, and wouldn't warm up again no matter how many warmed blankets we wrapped him in. When he couldn't lift his head, I wrapped him up and lay him on my chest, tucked under my chin. He died in his favorite spot.

I'll miss you, baby.