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I don't know what day it is. Let me think about it. Yes. Ok. It's Thursday. I've been on the run for four days. Four days since the end of the world as I knew it. Four days since the wicked winds of Hurricane Sandy arrived and destroyed the power grid.

Now my life has shifted into solving the “how do I” of mundane tasks. How do I get something to eat when all the food in my refrigerator has spoiled? How do I keep myself clean if I don't have running water? Where do I go to the bathroom if I cannot flush the toilet?

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Before the storm.

It boils down to that due to Hurricane Sandy, I live in a winterized cabin with no plumbing. The home I knew is gone for now-until Connecticut Light & Power has time to come to my middle class neighborhood and reconnect the line that is currently laying across the road, snaking its' way across the open woods.

The first few days weren't too bad, it was an uncomfortable flashback to last year's outage, but the nights have gotten cold. The temperature in the bedroom was in the 50's, which is not as bad as I've experienced, but it's very uncomfortable if you have to get out from under the covers. To make matters worse, the simple act of getting up to pee turns into having to get mostly undressed (at least the bottom part of any pajamas), then hover over a watering can. Yes...that's what I rigged up for myself. Its' shape is more like a pitcher so the top is open and the handle is at one end. Hovering over it with my bare feet on the cold tile, I tell myself to go ahead and pee, but my middle aged body says NO WAY. You do not just squat and pee here, you just don't do that! That's gross! But if you have not other options, what do you do? Run outside? It takes a tremendous amount of water to flush a toilet, which I was saving for “other purposes.”

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Only two ways out of my neighborhood. Both were blocked by fallen wires. One road was opened after less than a day, thankfully.

Eventually the task is completed. The vessel is sprayed with bleach. The contents carefully poured down the sink. Yes, gross! I hate it. I bleach out the sink and rinse it with water I saved in a large bucket before the storm hit. I'm trying very hard to keep things clean while feeling like I'm turning into a savage. I'm also worried that if I see a watering can months from now I will wet my pants…okay, maybe not.

I only worry about having my bladder suddenly behaving like Pavlov's dog is that because in the 1940's my grandmother got constipated. Her doctor prescribed something but it took a long time to work. He told her to get a copy of the New York Times and sit on the throne and wait. So she did. It worked, but after that my mother told me that every time my grandmother read the Times she had to go to the bathroom.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. A common sight-many grand pine trees fell onto power lines, their root systems not deep enough to hold them in place.

Today I was able to wash 16 dishes at Animal Care & Control since I'm buddies with the ACO and they have a brand new generator so things are working there. I warmed up the raw cat food (which has not gone bad due to my pre-loading the freezer with ziplock bags of water to make big ice cubes). I got something to eat. I helped Sam do two runs to the dump to get rid of ALL the recycling that had been sitting around in the garage for months. I went on a fool's errand to Loews to try to find more portable lights, mirrored tiles (to put candles on to magnify their light and a wick for my mostly burned out hurricane lamp), but they had none of those things. I overheard one of the salespeople say you couldn't buy a gas can in the entire state since folks needed to haul gas to keep their portable generators going.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Coating the doxycycline pills by flashlight.

I finished some paperwork for the Town that was due today. I got a cup of tea at the local grocery store that just opened back up. I read SOME email, but it's too difficult to reply so I gave up on that. I posted a few things here and there. Somehow that took me 11 hours. Normally I'd get all these things done in a flash.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. The one thing that worked-ziplock bags filled with water before the storm kept the precious cat food cold.

We've learned that we MUST be home BEFORE dark to feed all the cats or we just can't see what we're doing. The kittens want to bust out of their room and they still have to be medicated twice day. Trying pilling a cat with the light from a flashlight as your only source of illumination or scooping the litter pan in the dark.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. I knew that already!

I told Sam I feel like we're running from Zombies. We can only be out during the day. At night we race home not only for our cats, but to take shelter. To try to get some heat out of our lousy fireplace to warm the cats, to try to put on more clothes to keep the chill away, to try to think of something to do for the rest of the night, sitting in the dark by candlelight.

At least we don't have to worry about boarding up the doors and cowering in the corner in fear of having our brains eaten. The only thing that's truly horrible outside is our neighbors generator, which makes so much noise we can hear it through the walls of our house when we're trying to go to sleep. Maybe the generator is protecting us from the zombies by distracting them to go to the neighbor and kill him and crush that noisy-ass thing?

I can dream, can't I?

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. The second biggest oak tree in the state of CT is down the road from my house. Once I saw it still standing I had hope in my heart that everything would be okay.

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I finished writing this post Thursday night, a few moments before Sam and I got kicked out of the Town Hall. They close at 8pm and we'd already run back home, fed the cats, then came back for some work time. I wanted to stay longer, but there was no place else to get internet access so we headed home.

There's a traffic light about a mile from my house. It's been off since the Hurricane hit. I said to Sam that our power would be back on when that light was on—which was wishful thinking on my part.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Empty fridge again, but this time we didn't load up on food before the storm. The loss still stung, but not as bad as in 2011.

As we approached the traffic light, Sam noticed it was on. As we drove closer to home, we saw lights in other homes, but they were located before the break in the line. Certainly our power was not back on yet?

I didn't want to get too hopeful. Most of our neighborhood had power, just our street was out. As we passed over the downed line there were signs someone had been working on it. There was an orange highway cone and some official looking tape on the line. I looked to my right and the lights were on in the house nearest the break. As we continued down the street, every house had a few lights on.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. the DOOD minds the bags of spoiled food.

Could it be true? Were our lights on FOUR DAYS SOONER THAN EXPECTED?

YES! Our nightmare was over. The lights we had hung by the front door for the Halloween celebrations that never came to pass were on. I ran to open the front door and was greeted by the caress of heated air, the lights were on and a few cats were sitting by the doorway looking confused and perhaps, a bit relieved. I started jumping up and down, cheering for our good fortune.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. My food is bratty, but not that spoiled.

I immediately felt badly, too. I started texting any of my friends who were nearby and who didn't have power yet and told them to come over right away. I thought about all the other people who don't have power yet, who are cold and in the same lousy state as we had been. My joy was short-lived, but my appreciation for having a chance to get back to normal will stay with me for a very long time.

It's interesting to consider less than 100 years ago, the power being out wouldn't have been such a big deal. We depend so much on electricity it gives me pause. Being without it twice in a year makes me realize how poor my survival skills are and that this is a wake up call for all of us.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. It's al over at last. Exhausted from the craziness of the past week we simply spent the day in bed with a good book, cats and a cup of tea---and loved every second of it.

It was OVER, but it's not over for good. The latest reports are saying that this Wednesday we may get hit by a Nor'Easter-a combination of a wind, rain and snow, which will surely blow the power back out and us into darkness again…back to running from Zombies.

Nearly a decade ago I attended a two-week long Shambhala (a form of Tibetan Buddhism) retreat called  Warrior Assembly. It was the cumulation of 10, weekend long classes held over the course of two years. Warrior Assembly was akin to a gathering of graduates of the same program held in different cities all over the world. Attending this program was a big deal, but it carried many challenges along with it.

I grew up in a nice home. My parents were fairly private people. We enjoyed the luxury of going on an occasional family vacation, but we never did things like go hiking or camping. My Mother was a smart Jewish girl from “da Bronx,” what did she know of camping? My Dad was a good Catholic boy from Brooklyn, but even though he'd been a Boy Scout, I don't think dry gin martinis go well with pup tents.

I had, I guess, a "normal," conservative, middle class life. The outdoors was for sketching flowers I found while sitting under the shade of a tree. Religion was not discussed. We were left to our own devices in that regard.

Warrior Assembly meant the teasing away of my cocoon, my emotional one, my little whiny ego. This was where I started that work and boy did I NOT want to do it. I liked my safe places, my known daily routine. I love to watch TV and "space out." I like my privacy.

I didn't want to sit in a room with over 100 strangers, most of whom seemed to be happy to be on retreat without the comforts I was so used to. There was no air conditioning and it was June. It was too humid. There were too many people in a small space. I had to sit too close to them, sit near enough to be annoyed by hearing their breathing. I did not want to eat Oryoki  style, where food is served while you sit on the floor. You have to eat in a certain way, in a certain order. Eating becomes meditation. You chant. You do not talk while you're eating other than chanting. Food is not comfort, it is for providing for your body. I couldn't "stress eat" my dinner or load up on carbs. Whatever they gave me was what I ate. Case closed.

I decided to stay at a hotel instead of a small spartan room with a shared bath or stay in a room with a bunch of strangers getting undressed in front of each other. The fat girl in gym class was not getting changed in front of anyone. I told myself that no matter how bad it got, I could always run back to the hotel and hide if it got to be too much. 

I tried to tell myself not to be bothered by all this "hippie, veggie-eating stuff" (as my dad would say). I was mostly going to be sitting on a gomden for 8 hours meditating. It's not like I had a task. I just had to sit, follow my breath, try to experience my desire to push back but not do anything about it. Experience what is this moment and let everything else go.

There were days of complete silence. No talking allowed. It reminded us how unimportant most of things we say are every day, all the time, talking, talking, talking to fill up our fear of just being quiet with each other, to face that uncomfortable feeling, to simply abide.

Every day I hated it and I pushed back. We all took on tasks to help out the facility. I cut so many carrots my hands were stained orange, but there was joy in the work in the kitchen and a softness between the people there.

We studied and learned new things. We walked the expansive lawns and admired the organic gardens, yet, I still needed to run back to my hotel each night so I could feel normal again.

Near the end of the progam, though the temperatures were still muggy and my seat mates were still close to me as ever, something shifted. The pushing back feeling was fading away, replaced by acceptance of how things are and surprisingly, a cheerful feeling unfolded. Letting go freed me from a lot of pain and anxiety. Once I relaxed into the situation I was no longer angry and really, what was there to be angry about? In this moment I was just fine. Yes, I would like to be less sticky feeling but feeling sticky was okay, too. It wouldn't last forever. I knew it would change and I'd feel differently again and again and again.

When the time came to leave the program I was reluctant to go home. I got in my car and within the first hour my car broke down in the middle of nowhere Vermont. I didn't get scared or upset. Perhaps my sense of good cheer was the key to everything that followed? I found a small gas station, they called some friend to come to the station. They didn't give up on me or push me off saying they had no resources. They found me some help that made it so I could get home safely. I didn't flip out and I got home okay.

I was thinking about Warrior Assembly today and how I feel like I'm pushing back a lot right now. The power has been out for two days. Tomorrow CL&P will tell us when they estimate we will have power back on. I overheard the First Selectman say 7-10 days.

Even the simplest task is annoying and challenging. I'm irritated beyond irritation yet I'm compelled to look back and think about what I learned so long ago.

Sure there's no water, heat or light. No tv or internet. Tonight it will go down into the 30's. There's very little in the bank and the contents of the fridge are going to waste soon-again-just like last year. 

Eating out is expensive, but I look around and we're all still here. Some of us may need a shower or wish we had a hot cup of tea, but in this moment everything's all right.

I just need to let go.

I'm back in the Newtown Municipal Building, back to the same room I spent the better (really worse) part of week a year ago after Snowmaggedon hit the east coast of the United States. We lost power for almost a week. This was the only place to charge a phone or get WiFi.

We had no water for washing or flushing, no heat, no cooking. We lost all the food in our fridge, it was 49°F in the bedroom at night. I lost my marbles. Simple tasks like staying clean became a quest-where to find a shower that didn't mean staying on a line at the local middle school behind 75 other people, to wait for a 5 minute chance to get clean. I knew we were in trouble with the national news based their nightly newscast from our town.

A year later our state has been nearly wiped clean by the massive Hurricane Sandy, leaving a great deal of the state without power. Our town is 93 percent out. Most others are the same or completely out.

This time I hope I did a better job at preparing for the worst. I filled ziplock bags with water and froze them, filling the freezer in hopes to keep our stash of raw food from spoiling. It would be one thing if there was money in the bank to manage a loss, even as seemingly small as this one, but there IS no money. Losing a few hundred dollars in cat food is a tough blow after already being in a tough spot.

I washed every scrap of laundry. I cleaned the house. I scrubbed the toilets, then got every bucket I could and filled it with water so we could flush the toilets later. I bought shrine candles that last a week. I baked some cookies, some scones. I felt like I was having company come to visit only this one I hoped would never arrive.

I tried to think of everything I could, then at the height of the storm, for some reason I realized I was out of antibiotics for the kittens. I could only hope to remedy that by the morning.

I thought about all the other people in my position, nearly broke and with few resources to recover from whatever this storm was going to throw at us. I saw a photo of someone's house that used to be on Fairfield Beach. Now it's IN Fairfield Beach and I doubt their insurance is going to cover that kind of loss. What if those people only had a few bucks in the bank too? What would they do? It's tough enough to be terrified of a natural disaster, but what about the affect on the bank account? Are some people going to be suddenly homeless? Certainly MANY people have been flooded out of their homes.

I don't want to come off as whining, because I'm not. I'm just pissed, fed up, scared. I can't believe this is happening AGAIN. I can't believe the damage. For the NYC Subway system to shut down means the end of the world has come.

The storm arrived on soft paws at first, just a gentle mist and light wind. We were spared heavy rains but the roof still leaked. The winds picked up, then stayed strong for hours and hours. I'd heard a loud THUD, then not be able to locate the source. The next morning revealed a few trees had fallen. I was lucky, they fell up hill, not into my house. The cruel wind had spared me that.

The lights flickered. I'd yell at them to "STAY ON, com'e on now, STAY ON!'

I'd run around like I was playing musical chairs, hurrying to wash another dish or quickly flush before the power went out for good.

At 8:42pm it was over. The power was out, now the clock begins ticking...how long will it be before it's restored? 

A lot of people are having a very bad time-far worse than I am. I'm basically ok and grateful it's NOT terrible cold outside, but because I know how it goes without power for days I'm fit to be tied. The cats are okay but suddenly started peeing all over and fighting. The foster kittens are a bit confused but are eating and playing. Our feral kitty, Bronte appeared seemingly no worse for wear, just hungry. Sam and I are talking, carefully, respectfully. Maybe the 75-80 mph winds forced us to put aside our issues for now? Maybe that will be a good thing? I can't say.

All I know is I have no idea how the folks in the south survive Cat 2 and higher Hurricanes. My house literally shook from the force of what Sandy threw at us. I can't imagine how anyone survives stronger events.

I read that the reason this Hurricane was so massive (and which is still blowing 24 hours later) is due to the huge melt of Arctic ice. It made me realize that you can't ever beat Mother Nature. You can think you override it, build a dam around it,  destroy it, change its' global temperature, but in the end, Mother Nature wins out. It's a humbling reminder of the price we pay for our arrogance.

The Cutest Kittens in the World

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Charly & Buttons.

Charly and Buttons are still here giving me a reason to smile. They are such darling creatures. I love spending time with them.

It looks like one of them will be getting adopted. I don’t want to jinx it by saying more, but I promise to update you when the time comes. Until then, I’ll greedily hold onto them and try to enjoy every second.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Clean those dirty toes!

Since writing this a few days ago, a few things have happened. Charly's been adopted by a wonderful couple from Boston! (Read his new mom's blog to keep up with Charly's adventures) Though I miss Charly a lot I know he's got a great home. Buttons is keeping me company and to help him, I asked foster-mama-Donna to let me take Bandit, Button's sister. That way Buttons wouldn't have to be alone.

The problem-Bandit is NOT happy to be here at all! Oops.

About the title: The Winds of Change

There’s a huge hurricane headed our way. They’re calling it Frankenstorm or simply, Hurricane Sandy. I’m having terrible flashbacks of a year ago when we were hit by “Snowmaggedon”—the worst week of my life without electricity or friendship (Sam and I had had a bad fight and spent the week ignoring each other…I broke off our engagement and gave back the ring.) With no heat, frigid temperatures, no water, no nothing I thought I was going to lose my mind. You can read the multi-part series HERE HERE and HERE and see a visual journal of my week from Hell.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Taking five from wrestling.

A year later, the same things seem to be happening again, as if on schedule. Because I know he reads this blog, I’m not going to say much other than a simple moment of irritation on my part turned into a full blown war on his. Sam has declared he is leaving me, we are done. It’s day five when we should be planning on getting through this next storm, but we can’t even recover from the one between us.

There’s a cascading effect once these cruel winds blow. There’s the obvious sign of bags and boxes being packed, but beyond that there’s a joint business being run that saves the life of cats. There are design projects that might have been worked on hand in hand and will now be done by other firms. There is a loss of livelihood and most likely a loss of my own home.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Game for Cats is a hit with these two.

Almost twenty years have ticked past. There have been plenty of storms along the way. The winds always bring us back together and we find a way to rebuild. With all the stress in our lives I can’t see where the resources are to find a place where things are okay again. I’m so beat down by everything else it’s just one more thing. It makes me sad to write that because it should mean so much more, but my bank account is almost empty and so is my heart.

That’s why I haven’t been able to write much this week. It’s hard to write when you’re looking out the window and know something horrible is coming your way. As if in a bad dream you can’t lift your legs and run, run, run. You have to stay there and wait and let the wild winds crash the tree limbs around you, let the rain wash over you, while you pray you don’t drown.

the DOOD

What of the DOOD? If you missed my short status update on Facebook, the DOOD has RECOVERED from his bad fall! It took SIX WEEKS and was very touch and go. I was hours away from starting DOOD on a course of steroids, because he just wasn’t getting over the hump, when I noticed him walking normally. I waited a day to be sure, but by then he was starting to play with Blitzen, run a little bit and he stopped staying in one place for an entire day. His crate is still in the living room. I’m worried about taking it down, in case I’m wrong and DOOD needs more time. Some of the other cats are using it as a getaway to chill out so no rush there.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Feelin' fine.

I’m just so happy to have my boy back. I missed him terribly when we couldn’t have snuggle time together and I couldn’t bear hearing him cry when he walked. Two days ago he was back to his old self and even showed up for breakfast, which he hasn't done since early September.

This afternoon, when I wasn't paying attention, DOOD snuck into the pantry and found two sample bags of dry cat food I'd hidden in a plastic grocery bag. He managed to wrap the bag handles around his neck and left front leg. I heard the commotion and saw him lumbering away as fast as he could. I was able to grab him and free him from the bag, all the while worrying that he just re-injured himself!

DOOD! What will I do with you?!

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Together again, DOOD with buddy, Blitzen.

Jackson Galaxy (the cat)

Jackson seems stable after being diagnosed with HCM last month. He takes his medications twice every day. He’s very easy about it since I hide the tiny pills in kitty-crack: Paw Lickin’ Chicken.

Jacks seems to be comfortable, is yeowling much less and still loves to give those headbutts. Sadly, Jackson also has been doing some marking and continues to attack some of the cats (I believe he’s bored and/or jealous so I have to make certain he gets play time and attention).

Jackson's due for a repeat echocardiogram. I spoke with Dr. Larry and we both agreed to do the test might kill Jackson. We both tried to find if there’s such a thing as a mobile Vet who can perform an echo but could not find one.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Jackson enjoying some egg-time.

Clinically Jackson is quite well. Next month Dr. Larry and Super-Deb will come over and check Jackson’s vitals and do an exam. Perhaps it’s because he seems fine to me that I don’t worry too much. Dr. Larry keeps telling me that one day I might find that Jackson passed away. He said it will probably be sudden and based on how Jackson’s heart appeared on x-ray, he doesn’t feel it will be a very long time.

Of course as Dr. Larry says, he could be wrong and maybe we’ll have years together? I’m just trying to be prepared for what may happen. I pray Jackson doesn’t throw a clot because I read that is very painful. I hope if he has to pass that Jackson will do so in peace. I know for sure it will be in a place where “warts and all”, Jackson will be loved.

Right now Jackson is doing well.

The Winds…

Hurricane Sandy, Frankenstorm, whatever you want to call it, is approaching. As the winds pick up and skies darken, I'm trying to make thoughtful preparations about the coming days. With all that's going on the last thing I need is more trouble. In tomorrow's post and maybe my last for awhile, I'll divulge the sad secret I've been reluctant to share.

Part four tomorrow..stay tuned.

It’s (s)Not All Right

Poor Tater and Willow. They’ve been chronically sick. Willow shoots snots across the room and Tater’s eye is always running and he sounds stuffed up. I decided it was worth the risk of not getting any information (some times these tests don't tell you much) to get an expensive DNA test on Tater’s eye goop called a PCR for URI. With any luck we’d find out what was causing Tater his misery.

It took a week, then the news: Mycoplasma.

My reaction, duh, of course. Tater’s constant runny eye is definitely indicative of mycoplasma (but it's also a symptom of other issues which is why we do the PCR test).

The Problem

Latte and Fred and Coco started to get sick. They’d all been in the same room for a month. I had the kittens examined. Only Coco was running a mild fever in addition to a runny eye and sneezing. It was bizarre the ALL the cats had an issue in their right eye, except for Tater. We decided that the best course of treatment would be to hit the kittens hard with antibiotics for 30 days because mycoplasma is bacterial, not viral.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Re-check for fleas. None were found. Whew!

I’d heard from a lecture by Dr. Hurley at UC Davis, that they will go to a 60 day protocol to really infiltrate the fine bones of the nose. My Vet hadn't heard of this so I thought we'd start at 30 and see how it goes.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Willow waits while the other cats get examined.

Medicating cats is never fun, BUT with Doxycycline as the medicine of choice, I had a scary task ahead of me. I learned the HARD WAY that…

…given incorrectly, Doxy can SCALD the esophagus of a cat causing a STRICTURE to form. The cat can’t pass food into the stomach and my oh my what a party you don’t have. It cost many thousands of dollars to repair this damage to our tiny kitten, CaraMelle last year after we'd given her Doxy when she was just 3 weeks old and VERY sick with a URI. She was many months old before we understood what was going on with her and were on the path to resolve it.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Poor Coco.

Having to pill 6 cats X 2/day for a month means 360 chances for me to screw up and cause multiple strictures in the kittens.

I’m determined, as always, to do right by these cats. While some scratched their head at me for not opting to use a liquid version of the antibiotic, I opted for ¼ of a tablet per cat. Each pill is coated in Flavor Doh. I like it much better than Pill Pockets® and the cats do, too. THEN I sprinkle dehydrated chicken over the pea-sized coated pill and feed as a treat, making SURE the cats are HUNGRY and more apt to eat what I put in front of them.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Willow weighs in at just five pounds.

The new problem I made for myself is they will eat anything and charge me at the door when they're really hungry. Entering the room is a comedic farce. I try to balance a plate with six tiny pill-peas on it, the cats push past me and run down the hall, unleashing their snottiness and frustration about being hungry all over the vicinity. In a panic, I put the plate down. With the cats corralled (and my blood pressure soaring), I turn to retrieve the plate only to find Latte had eaten all but the last remaining pill.

The Vet said she would have “GI upset” and not to pill her again that day (DUH!).

Meanwhile I had to go back and prep more pills, make sure they eat just one, then syringe them with 3mLs of water, then feed them. All this to make sure that pill doesn’t sit in their throat. All this while they are racing around the room in a panic because they’re so hungry.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Staying on track with a chart.

Today marks one full week of medicating the cats. It’s amazing that I can even do this when previously this would have freaked me out to the point where I’d just be upset all the time. Now I grab the cats unceremoniously and do what I need to do. I give them love afterwards so they don’t hate me forever and I move on. I think I’m finally getting the hang of (some of) this rescue stuff.

Part three is up next…what about Jackson? What about the DOOD? What about that bigass Hurricane Sandy headed my way?

Part of this post is dedicated to catching up on current events with all the foster kitties. How are they doing? Are they adopted? The other part of my post…well…you’ll find out.

The Kittens in Black

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

April had six kittens on March 26th, the night of my dreamy dinner date with Jackson Galaxy. Some of the kittens were polydactyl and all but one were solid black. It was an honor to watch them grow from just a week old to seeing them blossom into lovely young lady-kitties. You can read more of their story HERE and see loads of photos of those early days, too. It took a long time to find forever homes for them, but with such sparkling personalities, eventually everything worked out.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. My little munchkins.

Bon Bon was adopted right away by a marvelous family. Cutie Patootie and Sabrina, were adopted a few months later by my dear friends Lynne & Steve. After six months, a surprise, a local family offered to foster kittens for us and they ended up with the remaining kittens until they got adopted.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. The girls.

At the same time I got an application for one of the three, Hello Dahlia. The couple was lovely and have a kitty named Admiral Mittens and a dog named Olive. In a few days after the adoption I got the news that Dahlia jumped the twin baby gates separating her from the dog. Within moments the two were best buddies and are often seen sleeping cuddled up together.

©2012 Dahlia's Family. Dahlia and Olive.

That left us with Black Beauty & Belly Holiday.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Snowy, Ally & Matt-Belly & Beauty's new family.

The family who was fostering the kittens fell in love with them. They asked to make it official after seeing how they'd get along with their other cat, Snowy. The introductions went well and their fate was cast. The girls have been in their own home for a few weeks now and all are doing well.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Belly in her tent.

The Georgia Rescues

Adoptions are picking up, but finding good adopters is still very difficult. I got numerous offers to adopt Coco, our flame point, blue-eyed beauty, but none of them were a good match.

I figured our boy Tater would be gone in a flash, but because I want him to go with his sister Latte, there hasn’t even been one application for them.

The big surprise to me was who of our group of eight would get adopted first. It ended up being our skinny-mini-black-kitten Choco and his orange tabby sister, ChiChi! A lovely couple who had no other pets, saw their photos and fell in love. When they met the kittens they ALL ran off and hid. I thought there was no hope of any kitten getting adopted if they didn’t show well, but as a last ditch attempt to save the situation I left the couple alone in the room. Sure enough, little Choco came over to say hello and his shy but sweet sister followed suit.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Happy Adoption Day!

When Jon and Laura left the room they were smitten. Choco and ChiChi went to their palatial home where I hear they are doing very well and are very content.

©2012 Jon & Laura. Choco and ChiChi now named, Magic & Pumpkin.

Then there’s Willow. I thought I had an adopter for her, but at the home visit I just felt there was something off. The couple must have felt that way, too because I never heard back from them, nor did I reach out after our meeting. I keep hoping Willow will find her happy home. She is so great with the other kitties and so friendly and silly. She should be with a young girl and a nice family. I’m sad I haven’t found that for her yet.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Tater, Barney, Latte (tortie) and Fred (rear).

Little Fred & Barney aren’t so little any more. Barney had a very bad case of roundworms, but once he was de-wormed he began to do much better. I almost had a home for both boys, but it fell through so back to the drawing board.

There's lots more news including an update on the DOOD and Jackson Galaxy (the cat) as well as some “stuff” I'm not sure I want to talk about yet. Part two is up next....

I can't take it.

Two of Winnie's kittens are here. The others are with their foster mom in a neighboring town, waiting to be spayed/neutered in two weeks. Because Charly and Buttons had their procedures last week, they're ready to find their forever homes.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Buttons (left) and Charly (right).

The problem is they're so cute I can't stand the idea of them leaving.

To make matters worse they're great kittens. I don't know what foster mom Donna does, but whatever it is, these kittens are warm, loving, gentle and sweet.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

The first night they were here their little bodies shook with fear. They were scared in their new environment without their mama, Winnie, to look after them. I stayed with them for a long while, petting them, giving them treats, comforting them. They responded by purring and leaning into my hands.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

I always feel guilty about separating the kittens from their mama, but it must be done. Winnie was spayed. She has a home with Donna. She's had at least three litters of kittens-three litters too many. She's done her time. It's time for her to recover and enjoy life without the burden of pregnancy in a home that will treat her with compassion and respect (and lots of love, too).

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Charly thinking so hard his tongue came out.

Charly and Buttons have only been here for a few days, but if I could I'd spend day and night with them. I'm a sucker for long haired cats and it's rare that I ever get any to foster. In a way that's probably a good thing or I fear I'd have a zillion more “foster fail” cats and many fewer adoptions.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

I keep torturing myself. Who would be good enough to adopt these kittens?

Within an hour of posting the kittens on Petfinder, I had 4 offers to adopt them. As with all our foster kittens, I'll be careful to review each application and hopefully will find someone amazing. All I know is, whoever adopts these cats is going to be VERY LUCKY.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

My fear is that they won't get enough attention, that they will lose their sweetness if handled roughly. Am I saying our adopters do that? Certainly not, but once out of Donna's loving care, then mine, what will become of them?

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

I always have to push aside my fears when doing adoptions. There has to be a point where I let go. It's unbearable to look into their eyes and feel myself getting lost in their adorable faces. I struggle to turn away. I make myself think about my cats-the cats I made a commitment to who depend on me and need my love. I want to make excuses as to why these kittens can't be adopted just yet so I can have more time with them, but that's foolish, too. That's not how you run a cat rescue.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

I savor their sweetness, their silly antics, their awkward movements not yet refined into that of a graceful adult. Their adult coats haven't come in yet and they have spiky hairs along their backs that indicate just how long their coats will be one day.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Beautiful Buttons.

One day that I will not witness…

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. What IS this?

In some ways it feels like I have a secret lover. I look at Charly and Buttons and I forget my troubles for awhile. It's an escape from tension in the house, the cats misbehaving, the bills growing. All I have to do is have fun and love them, guide them with a gentle hand and make sure their tummies are full. They don't have behavioral issues or diseases to treat (knock wood). They don't irritate me as my own cats sometimes do. It's the first blush of love and I'm certainly hooked. I feel reluctant to leave them to tend to the other cats. It's like going back to my husband after a whirlwind affair.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Cat toy photobomb.

Reality kicks in and I move on to other things. I know they're upstairs playing or napping or looking out the window as the dried autumn leaves flicker past the window on a gust of wind.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Little hunter.

I find myself longing for our next meeting and trying to think of an excuse to go check on them. I know our time is running out. Soon they'll be adopted and all I'll have are these photos and my memories.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Is my butt too heavy for this cat cube?

Once in awhile the door to my heart opens. Each time the hinges grow more stiff and it's harder to open the door. I know the pain of letting them in, but I wouldn't trade it for the world. I get to be around little beings at the best time of their life. I get to enjoy all the good stuff for awhile and it will revive me until the next time it happens.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Hello!

These are the ones who remind me that my capacity for love is infinite. It doesn't run out when I feel heartbreak. It always comes back full, complete and profound.

Featuring Barney and Willow.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

Yesterday I shared with you the pain that’s in my heart about all the cats struggling to find help to get out of kill shelters or off the streets into a safe, loving home. I always feel torn about sharing things that are deeply painful. It’s never my goal to make any reader cry, nor even stir up “the pot,” for that matter. But…I also have to write about painful topics to purge my anguish and despair or I just can’t go on.

Today’s letter is about Nico and all the cats like him who found rescue and safe harbor.

---------------------------------

Dear Nico,

My life is filled with “shoulds.” I “should” work on finding a new client or I “should work on updating Kitten Associate’s web site, then do some laundry.” I will get to all these things, I hope, sooner or later, but I’m easily distracted.

I saw your photo in an email. A nice lady was asking for help. She said you were going to be euthanized because her shelter, try as they might, just didn’t have the room to hold you any longer. Other cats were arriving and they deserved a chance, too. You had your time. Now your time is up.

I look at your photo. I don’t know anything about you other than you’re a male. I don’t know if you’re sick, how old you are, if you’ll like being around people.

I look in my bank account. We just got a nice donation. I add up in my head how much I think it will cost to take care of you. I’m guessing it will be about $300.00. I have that much money, but I have 14 other cats who are ahead of you, whose needs must come first.

I add up in my head how much more I will need for the others. Most of them have what they need other than food. I try to figure out if I can afford to help you.

I look at your photo again. You have a quality about you that is appealing. Something in my heart tells me other people would agree and if I like you surely they would like you, too. I bet I can get you adopted.

Two days passed.

I can’t stop thinking about you. There are others who need help, but you really stand out to me. I really don’t have room to take you, but I’m going to give you a chance. I hope I’m not wrong. I hope to God you don’t test positive for Feline Leukemia. If you have FIV+ that’s not great, either.

©2012 Cyndie Tweedy. A very hungry young kitty who is eating because of donations received to my non-profit rescue, Kitten Associates.

I hope you don’t end up being unfriendly or that you hate other cats. You have to get along with everyone until we find you a forever home where you won’t have many cats to live with.

I sent out a few emails on your behalf. I made bargains with other rescuers. I texted folks who could help me, help you because I live 1000 miles from your cage at the shelter. I stayed up too late again, but I didn’t have time to spare. The puzzle pieces came together creating a map of your rescue, how and when it would take place. Is it too late? Did I wait too long?

The next morning I find out. No. It’s not too late. They told me the cat is waiting for you. He has no belongings to pack up. You can just put him in a cat carrier and have your volunteer sign a few papers. He takes the cat away from that place.

Silently, invisibly a little tic mark appears in the “WIN” column in my heart. There is no fanfare, but I feel a tug; a feeling that’s mixed with joy and despair. I got you out, but left so many others behind.

©2012 Cyndie Tweedy. Nico finally gets some rest and love in his new foster home.

Then I wait again for the call that tells me your test results. You tested negative. You have ear mites. You have fleas. It’s all treatable. It’s not expensive. So far, so good.

You need a name. I ask my friend Ingrid. She chooses Nico. Nico it is. Hello, Nico. That’s all I have to do for now. A nice man drives you to your new foster home where you can rest and get something good to eat. I don’t even get the chance to welcome you to my rescue or finally see you in the light of day, instead of in a photo online.

My job is done. Your life is saved. I will make sure you get a home where they won’t ever give up on you or put you back into a cage in a kill shelter. I won a small victory and I will continue to fight for you by saying no to some adopter-candidates and only yes to the one-the one who will love you forever this time.

©2012 Cyndie Tweedy. Flame point sister have a rescue pending but their sisters don't. You can see them below.

I look at my email and there is an urgent plea about four kittens; two are flame point Siamese and two are lovely orange tabby girls. They’re at a kill shelter in the south. I should get to work. I should do the laundry and not write more emails or make more calls. It’s getting late. I need some sleep.

©2012 Cyndie Tweedy. 5 month old sweet sisters need a rescue from Newton Animal Control in Covington, Georgia.

The laundry can wait.

The work can wait.

They cannot wait.