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I'm really choked up right now. I just finished having a nice, cleansing cry. Some of my tears were for seeing the Masters of Mayhem leave to be spayed/neutered and on to wait for their forever homes. The rest of my tears, were allocated to Tweetie.

As we often see, the kittens we rescue during TNR, aren't always easy to socialize. Some are flat out wild beasts who will only be tamed over a long period of time, if ever. Because we don't have the time to socialize each kitten, we have to choose which are candidates for placement and release the ones that will simply take too much time in foster care to turn around.

It's the part of doing rescue work that I don't care for. I know the kittens who are released will have a harder life. At least they'll have good health and a caregiver to start with. The rest is up to them. I'm a big softy. I admit it. I want ALL the kittens to get a good home and not have to live under a fallen tree or under someone's shed, but it certainly beats being in a cage in a shelter, where they will slowly go mad, never be adopted for being too fractious and end up being euthanized.

So up until this morning, I was mentally preparing myself to be okay with Tweetie being released in the next week. He's getting neutered today, then evaluated, then probably returned to where he was first trapped. His old home base.

Then I got a short email. It was from Sockington's owner, Jason. Whose famous cat looks like he's Tweetie's father. He asked if he could possibly help little Tweetie and then...everything changed.

I realized it would be wrong to release Tweetie, when he has so many friends rooting for him. That perhaps, this one time, this one kitten's story of learning to love, might be worth telling. I spoke with our Director and we had an uncomfortable conversation, which, thankfully, blossomed into understanding and a little "bending of the rules."

Tweetie was slated to be ear-tipped today, just in case he ended up being released. It would prevent him from having additional sedation and stress, but I asked to cancel the procedure, worried that it would effect Tweetie's chance of being adopted. In our give and take, I offered to cover the medical expenses should Tweetie need to be ear tipped at a later point and instead of being evaluated by the Director just now, Tweetie is going to be released...

...to me.

This is going to be tough, but I need to give it a try. Tweetie is going back into my bathroom. He'll be on his own, without his siblings. "Tough love" may help turn him around. I'm going to give him the time he needs—which may be months, but I'm going to stick by him and with any luck, one day I'll be writing about Tweetie getting adopted.

This is very risky. Tweetie could end up not turning the corner, then we'll have to release him, but at what point? If he gets too old-even 6 months, he'll be harder to place and I can't have Tweetie in my bathroom forever.

For now, I'll be writing about Tweetie's journey to find his love for people and and my struggle to help get him there.

NOTE: I just created a special Twitter page for Tweetie. You can follow his "Tweets" here

It's 4:30 AM as in THE MORNING BEFORE THE SUN RISES AND I SHOULD BE SOUND ASLEEP IN MY BED. But no, once again, for the fifth time this week, I awaken to the sound of a cat puking.

While my fading dreams tease me to return to them, my desire to be a good Cat-Mama, ok my desire to make sure they didn't puke on my parent's antique oriental rug, drives me out of bed. Also, as some of you may recall, last year Bob Dole, the cat was VERY ill for many weeks, vomiting many times a day and always around 4 or 5AM, thank you, Bob. Bob was diagnosed with Pancreatitis and since it's a bitch to deal with, the sooner I figure out Bob needs meds, the sooner I can get him back to feeling better.

Now, I can almost tell which cat is puking just by the sound. Each barf has its' own unique timbre. For example, Gracie moans prior to puke-off and her offspring, Tunie, cries as though she were reenacting the death scene in La Boheme. It's great to get enough pre-puke warning that I can quickly usher (chase) the cat off the (damn) rug.

Bob, on the other paw, has a very LOUD gulping sound. It rattles the windows. When Bob's about to blow, there is no question. He usually does three warning "gulps," followed by a splash, sort of like a drink recipe if you don't count the fact that the contents don't end up in a glass and you'd probably never get a good tip if you tried to get someone to taste it.

I hear the telltale "Gulp, Gulp, Gulp." I race down stairs, trying not to break my neck since my legs haven't caught up with my brain. I reach the last step and see Bob waving slowly towards me. His gait says "Old Man," but he looks up at me those Puss In Boots (from Shrek 2) Eyes, pleading to be fed, again.

"There will be no food at 4:30am. I'm not teaching you to wake me up this early to feed you. No way." and with that, I begin the far too familiar search for The Unholy Grail, hoping I will see it before my bare foot accidently does, first.

My dear parents oriental rug, which I just hauled to my house last summer, after selling and emptying their home after they had both passed away. The rug is HUGE for my small house. It's wildly colorful and doesn't really fit my decor, if 100 lunchboxes and a collection of salt & pepper shakers that look like miniature appliances count as decor. It's got a boo-boo in the corner from my mother leaving a wet plant on it without any sort of protection, so I had it patched. It's not worth that much money, but it's the rug my Mother made my brother and I sit on while she mopped the kitchen floor. It became our island and we could go no further than the edges of the rug while the floor was wet. Mother would set the timer for 30 minutes and leave us alone. We would touch the floor every two seconds. It sure seemed to be dry, but why couldn't we leave the rug?

Because my Mother wanted a break from two crazy kids and took a nap for half an hour and her kids were too stupid to realize what was going on.

So this is why I have to protect the rug.

Woah. Bob barfed. A lot. On the rug. I quickly estimated it would be a two trip clean up. One to pick up the big blob, one to wash off the rug. I started to worry. Bob might be getting sick again...or...was it the Metacam he was taking for post surgery pain?

What I found out next almost made me scream, but heck, this post is getting kinda long, so I'll finish it up later. I need to get my Rant on and I'm still undecided on whether or not I need to have a LOUD, YELLING, SCREAMING "TALK" with Dr. Larry.

Tweetie, got his start living life in the woods of Sandy Hook, CT. He and his mama, two sisters and a brother, all had to fend for themselves. They were all really skinny and had sickness in their bellies. One day a scary lady (who is really nice) trapped them and took them away. At least the Coyotes couldn't eat them any more.

Little Tweetie was scared. He didn't like people, even if his brother and sisters did. He didn't know what would happen next.

Tweetie and his family went to live with another lady. She said she was their "foster mom" whatever that is. She gave them lots and lots of crappy tasting medicine, but now they feel better. She also gave them a lot of nom-noms! No more bellies with worms. Now bellies with warm food. Yummy!

Tweetie loved playtime, too! He likes to run and hide with his toys. I guess he's not great with sharing, but he DOES love his family a lot. People, well they can pet him, but he's still not too happy about it. His Foster Mom is sad. If Tweetie doesn't like people then he will have to go back to living in the woods. His Mom doesn't want that to happen, even if she knows Tweetie might like it better. She thinks she can help Tweetie learn to love people, but she only has a few more days left to help Tweetie. Then time is up. Tweetie will have a caretaker who'll feed him if he wants it, but Tweetie will no longer know the comfortable life of an adopted kitty.

One day (okay, today) Tweetie's Foster Mom noticed something. "OMG! You look like Sockington, the famous kitty known throughout the land! Are YOU Sockington's secret SON?!No sooner than his Foster Mom "tweeted" about Tweetie, the news broke and poor Tweetie was inundated by Pawpurrazzi!

"Oh no! You mean photographers stay away from me!

What is Tweetie, aka Sockington Jr. going to do? Is he going to find a family to adopt him who understands his plight? Or will this little fellow go back to his life of obscurity, living out his days in the wilds of the woods?

And what of his possible father, the great Sockington? When asked, his only comment was: "WHAT NO WE WERE JUST FRIENDS NOTHING WENT ON" even after seeing the photo of Tweetie, all he could say was:"UM WELL AHHH GOTTA GO"

UPDATE: Little Tweetie is available for adoption for Residents of Connecticut (and possibly near neighbor states, but you'd have to email info@theanimalcenter.org to find out). You can fill out a Pre Adoption form for Tweetie, or any of his siblings, by visiting our web site. Please note that Tweetie is NOT a friendly kitten-yet. He will need LOTS of work with an understanding family with no small children, as he has been known to fear-bite. His siblings are all very friendly. Hopefully he just needs more time to come around than they did.

Quit being so cute or I'll have to adopt you! Then I'll have too many cats and be accused of being the crazy cat lady, but "they" never call people "crazy baby lady" if they have too many kids!

Life is so unfair.