Foster Cat Journal: Guilt

Okay, now what do I do? Huggy is home and happy and her boys are locked up in the dog crate, climbing up the sides of the cage, trying to get out. They cry, look at me with those little sad faces that beg to know why I'm being so mean to them!

So I left the room. I couldn't be in it. I wanted to hang out with Huggy and let her rest on my lap. I decided to just let her rest on her own. I came back hours later with her next round of meds. I got her to take everything by hiding them in tiny portion of "kitty crack" (e.g., Solid Gold canned tuna). I scooped the rest out onto two plates; one for her and one for the kittens to share. I lifted her carefully and unlocked the crate, letting the kittens free and locking her safely inside with her dinner. She looked up at me with those big, knowing, green eyes and went back to her food. She'd eat because the food was so tasty, but was resigned to being locked up yet again.

Dash and Snuggles raced around the room, finally free after a day in captivity. They attacked their food dish with great enthusiasm now that they can no longer get snacks from Huggy's sore mammary glands. They'll be free until the morning. Then I switch them back into the crate.

There's no winning here. Someone has to be locked up. It's either that or I have to put some of them into the bathroom and leave the other/s behind in the guest room. Then they'll each get even less time with me because I'll have to bounce between rooms and the bathroom isn't exactly full of soft, comfortable places to sit, if you get my drift.

It's only for a week...well, a week until Huggy's re-check at the Vet. Then she'll let me know if it's all right for Huggy to be reunited with her kittens and I can go back to feeling guilty about something else.

Poor Huggy. Poor Dash & Snuggles. Poor me. Boo-hoo. I know. Get over it. It's a week. Sheesh.

You tell them, that.