So I made it back home alive from my attempt at having an "adventure!," a road trip across the country!, e.g., a failed, stupid idea, where I was stranded in the heartland of America for 8 days. You can read about it HERE.

Now that I've returned, I'm slowly getting back into the old, boring, swing of things. My first act of normalcy, other than to sleep in my own bed, was to procure a foster kitten for, well, fostering.

Enter said kitten. Kitten? Umm...okay, how about really BIG, 6 month old young CAT? Yeah, Miss K (and I know you're reading this), an awesome tick-flicking, stray cat trapping animal rescuer, brought me a cat who was abandoned at the feeding station she set up a few years ago. The kitty, Smokey, was left, along with her pregnant Mom. Initially thought to be feral, the cats were trapped and brought to the Vet to be spayed.

Smokey started to purr right away, so even though that's GREAT, it's doubly sad because it means she's had human contact with a shitty human who dumped her.

Mom and new babies are in foster care, too, so no worries about them. I've got Smokey and my goal is to get her adopted in two weeks. That's all the time I have because I'm getting more kittens soon.

Smokey is very pretty, grey tabby with a hint of siamese, it seems. She's playful, super quick to purr LOUDLY and submissive. You can pick her up any old way, not support her rump and she'll just hang there 'til you hold her close. She's skittish, but in the first day I've already seen her calm down. I think, in time, she'll be just fine.

Photos will be uploaded this weekend.

Now lets get to work and find Smokey a home!

What the HECK?!

I took Gracie to the Vet today to have her teeth cleaned. She's got an irritated area on her gums and looks like one of her teeth is going to be pulled. Gracie was a champ about being shoved into the cat carrier against her will. Granted I offered her some time with "the brush" in trade for allowing me to scoop her up and drop her into her carrier.

Gracie is such a brush-whore. She'll do anything if I brush her first.

Oh yeah, the rant...

So I get to my Vet's office and one of the nice ladies that works there was talking to me about how she only has one cat and she feeds her 1/8 cup of DRY food a day and the cat is still fat. This is at my VET's OFFICE!

Where my VET WORKS...

...where my vet and his staff are supposed to KNOW about good nutrition! Here is this poor woman who wants to do the best for her cat and didn't even KNOW about the benefits of getting her cat off grain.

I spent about 20 minutes going over the benefits and the types of results I've seen over the time I've been feeding my cats either a RAW, or at least, grain free canned diet. It chaps my ass that I see bags of "Prescription" diets in my Vet's office and I keep wanting to work up the nerve to talk to him about it. He's basically pushing crap on his clients and he's SO BUSY with work, why does he need more money? I need to get to the bottom of this.

Meanwhile, when I went back to pick Gracie up, sans a tooth, I left a few cans of cat food for the nice lady, in hopes she will start feeding an improved diet to her cat. I think it's my goal in life to turn everyone around to making this change. The pet food companies are starting to see the value in pulling grain. My fear is what they are going to do to make it cheaper so they can still make the bucks. Use cheaper cuts of meat? More bones, less muscle meat? What?

I shudder to think.

I've paid the Piper in tears. Lori, the adopter, called this morning to ask if she could come get the kittens a day early? I wanted to beg off and say, no. They're her companions now and they were always meant to only be here a short time, so I said; "Sure, come over."

I had a last visit with the kittens and tried to take the ultimate photo of them together, but it ended up just being some random shots of them playing. I kept thinking about Rose, their Mama, and how she would do once they leave her forever. The guilt runs deep. My only comfort is knowing the kittens are safe. They never went hungry or spent a night shivering under a fallen tree. They never were hunted by wild animals. They never slept in the dirt. Hopefully, they will only know a life of comfort and love. I gave them all kisses and wished them well, then left the room to wait for Lori to arrive.

Lori came to get the kittens and was so happy and excited. I took Poppy and placed her in front of her Mother's face and said; "Say Goodbye to Mama." and with that, the two rubbed foreheads. I almost lost it. I didn't mean it, but I think I upset Lori a bit. She was so focused on getting the kittens, she forgot that she was taking them away from their Mother. She waved Daisy at Rose and quickly put both the kittens into the carrier and couldn't get out of the room fast enough. I gave her some food and some suggestions on how to handle the first few days and bid her well. I hope she'll send me photos of the girls as they grow up. I'd love to see how beautiful they are as adults.

After Lori left, I brought Mama some special food and gave her a big hug and kiss, then burst into tears. She seemed calm and relaxed. Not even bothered, while I just sobbed. Honestly, if she's OKAY and I'm sad, that's fine with me. I'd rather it be that way.

And what does fate hold in store for Rose? Just because she's a year and a half older, her chances are fewer to find a good home, too. With the bad reaction to her Distemper booster shot and an eye infection, she needs to take it easy and will stay here awhile longer. She'll be in the foster room, alone, but it's far better than a cage in the shelter—her next stop if we don't find her a home soon.

I'm getting ready to leave home for a few weeks. My dear, Sam will be watching Mama for me while I'm gone. I hate to leave them both, but it's time for me to grow some wings of my own and try to figure out what I need to be doing. I think I need some wide open road to figure that out, so off I go, to points west until I hit Nevada.

I'll be back in a few weeks, hopefully. If you'd like to follow my journey, you can visit my Travel Blog

See you on the road!

Cat Hat or Pouffy Alarm Clock?

Do you REALLY think I can sleep with a loudly purring fur hat on my head?

My babies are adopted!!!!

After a few weeks of disastrous adopters coming through the foster room, we finally met a really nice couple who were smitten with the kittens. They're excited to be adopting their first pair of females. Up to now, they've always had male cats. Should be an interesting change for them!

I must add that I'm thrilled Poppy and Daisy get to go home together. Although they'll be parted from their Mother on Sunday, they'll be able to enjoy each other's companionship for the rest of their lives.

I hope they will have a happy, healthy, magical life. They are such beautiful girls, too. I will certainly miss them a lot.

Now...what can we do for Mama? She got a reprieve for a few more days. Now she goes to the shelter on Tuesday. I want her in a good home, NOT in a cage!

I'm trying to get ready to go on a trip out of town for a few weeks. A LONG overdue vacation—alone! Of course, the minute I declare I'm going away, everything starts to break, I catch a cold, now I have PMS and I had to run Bob to my Vet, then go pick up Rose at another Vet. Ugh.

Bob's been coughing. LOUD, BARKING COUGHS. He doesn't do it every day, but often enough so that I'm concerned about it. If he's working on hairballzilla, that's one thing, but from experience, that barking cough could be a sign of lung cancer or an infection. Since Bob is FIV+ I can't mess around. I've given Bob laxatone for the better part of three weeks. No hairball, more coughing. So, off he goes to visit my dear Dr. Larry.

Happily, Bob's temp was normal and his weight we up a little bit. For an old sick cat, he's doing pretty well. They ran some x-rays and overall his lungs were OKAY, but not normal. So more waiting to see how things go. Dr. Larry told me to still go on my trip, but that whoever was looking after Bob should be careful to monitor how he's doing.

After dropping Bob off at home, I drove to Danbury to pick up Rose from another Vet. This is one of the Vets that our rescue group works with, even though I offered to take her to my Vet and pay for it and it would have been so much easier to do it that way, but no. No. I have to drive over and get her 20 miles from here.

Yeah, I have PMS, back off!

Anyway, aside from the overly chatty receptionist, I was able to pick Rose (e.g., Mama) without incident. She's supposed to have eye drops for the next week, but otherwise they thought she had a bad reaction to the Distemper vaccination she received.

Mama had a nice reunion with her babies, who seemed glad to see her again. In a few minutes, another potential adopter is coming to meet with Poppy and Daisy. They are open to adopting the kittens together. This is great. Now we need some for Mama! She is slated to be placed at the shelter in SIX MORE DAYS.

Anyone in CT, interested in adopting a really nice, young kitty???

More photos and stuff as soon as I'm not so pissy.

My foster cats survived their spay surgeries and they returned home yesterday morning. I was glad to have them back, but of course I realize that it's a temporary situation. Rose, the Mama, was slated to be moved over to a local animal shelter where she would be placed for adoption today. I'm not happy about it.

I'm so frustrated. Our group, like so many others, can't afford to open our own shelter. We home-foster and invite potential adopters to our home to see the cats they're interested in adopting. It stinks. We don't have a facility where someone can just stop by and see whatever cats and kittens we have all in one place. Until we can do that, we're forced to place adult cats into other shelters. They just don't show well in a home, where they're already safe and well-fed. They're more likely to be adopted if they're in a cage. It helps offset that they're no longer cute kittens, but adults who've hit a bad patch and need to be rescued.

Does it really feel like rescuing a cat from someone's home? Probably not.

It doesn't stop me from wanting to keep Rose here as long as needed. My very good boyfriend (errr...fiancè) supports this idea, too, and is willing to lend a hand to care for the cat when I GO ON MY SPANKIN' ROAD TRIP TO NEVADA in a few days (I hope I can leave, 'cause right now I have a f-ing cold).

Rose's fate is out of my hands, especially since she came home and was basically limp, after her surgery. She didn't eat much and what she did eat, she vomited. She also seems to have the runs, so it was back to the Vet for her. So far, her re-check went fine and no fever is present. Because our Co-Founder came to take her to the Vet, she may just pick Rose up tomorrow and take her straight to the Shelter. Am I paranoid? I don't think so. When I said; "I'll pick her up when they're done with her. Just let me know what time." was answered with; "We'll talk about it."

Poppy comforts her Mama, Rose

Rose didn't get a chance to say goodbye to her babies. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to Rose, either. Will any of us ever see her again? I dunno. She's gone, baby, gone.

The Bartonella saga continues. First, I discovered that Bob had Heamo-Bartonella. Not a big surprise since he lived most of his life outdoors. Once Bob's treatment was completed, I noticed a great improvement in his appearance and vigor. For a senior, he's doing very well.

Spencer, was diagnosed with Bartonella 6 months ago. Since he's only lived indoors while he's lived with me, it means he contracted it more than five years ago! Spencer had his 3-week course of antibiotics and I'm glad to say that his Bartonella Titer showed he has successfully kicked the infection. I'm also glad to add that his complete blood work was PERFECT, not a little off here or there, but PERFECT. This adds to my conviction, that removing grain from my cat's diet was the way to go.

Enter Gracie. Another cat who's lived with me for five years. Her health has been fine. She's never been sickly. As part of the process of testing ALL my cats for Bartonella, when Gracie was due for some pre-dental cleaning blood work, I asked my Vet to test her for Bartonella, as well. I was shocked to find out that Gracie was a plus 4 for Bartonella. This means she, too, will need to be on a 3-week course of meds.

Overall my cats don't fight. They certainly don't fight enough to draw blood. Their outdoor life is restricted to sitting on my deck, which is about twenty feet off the ground—and even with that, they only go out of doors once in awhile.

Gracie, most likely, had Bartonella when she came to my house. She didn't pass it to her offspring, because I have her five year old daughter, Petunia, here too.

Gracie (front) with her daughter, Petunia (rear)

This is most curious to me. All my other cats are Bartonella negative. Considering the potential future effects of a long-term infection, such as Bartonella, I would strongly suggest ALL of you get out there are start testing your cats for Bartonella—especially if your cat is a bit on the fractious side.

Read my article HERE to see a complete list of health problems Bartonella can cause—and don't forget about "Cat Scratch Fever!" Humans can get Bartonella, too.

So get out there and protect your cats and your family!

Being a foster mom has its' rewards, but there's also a price to pay. This is the time I hate. Time to pay up. The past eight weeks have been spent watching my two wards grow and thrive—the first purr, the first taste of (grain free!) cat food, the first time they climbed up on the bed, the first nap-collapsed in my lap, the first tiny cry.

Their success is my joy. Knowing they're safe from the cold, cruel world, lifts my heart. Seeing them bat their mom on the nose as they dance across the room after a small toy mouse gives me fits of giggles. It's precious—each and every moment.

But time nags at me. I know. I know! Here it is, time to move on. Time to pack up the kittens into a cat carrier. Time to convince "mama" it's time to go with them, in her own carrier. They're confused. They don't know why they can't be together or what is happening to them. They're placed face to face in the back seat of my car. I drape a blanket over the carriers both to keep them warm and knowing the dark will soothe them some.

For the most part, there is silence during the 16 mile drive. Every so often I hear mama cry out softly. All she wants is to be free to care for her offspring and to comfort them as they huddle fearfully together. I always wish I could tell them what's going to happen, but with such bad news, would they really want to know?

Yes, my dears, I'm taking you to a Vet. He's going to stick a needle in your leg and make you go to sleep. When you wake up you'll feel cold, groggy and sore. Your belly will be shaved and will probably ache. You'll be alone and confused. You'll spend the night in a cage and alone in the darkness. The next day someone will come for you, yet another stranger. You'll be taken for a ride in the car, then you'll be given back to the lady who has been caring for you for two months. You'll get to see your sister and your Mother in your old room, but your joy will be short-lived.

Two days after you're reunited, you'll be separated. Not only will you never see your Mother again, but you'll never see your sister again or the nice lady who has been your friend for such a long time.

You'll be living in a new place that doesn't have other cats to make friends with or even a scary dog who'll chase you. Everything will seem overwhelming and terrifying to you. Eventually, you'll seek solace with the human who adopts you, all the while, wondering where your own family went. If you only had, at least, your sister with you, your world wouldn't feel like it came to an end.

You'll resign yourself to this new life and find your happiness as you can. With any luck, you'll be treated with love and compassion for the rest of your life. If you misbehave or rip up the rug you may be hit or you may be banished to a single room. You may even be dumped outdoors, with no skills to survive. Maybe you'll be lucky enough to find someone to help you find a new home, a safe way station? Maybe you won't be so lucky. Maybe this is all for nothing—all this work and care, feeling like the meanest person in the world.

It doesn't matter that I have SEVEN cat beds in my bedroom. The cats want to sleep with ME ME ME. I am the cat bed!

Of course, I won't kick them off the bed, so I can get comfortable. No. I won't do that. My back aching every morning is my own fault.

Anyone else have this problem?