|Purred: Fri Dec 17, '10 9:17pm PST |
|Thanks everybody for your responses. After having jealously guarded my paid time off at work I have three days left - and we have a three day work week between christmas and new years, so I have ten days of blessed freedom comming up! WooHoo! A perfect time to try fostering. I may go this weekend and look into fostering a cat or just adopting if the "chemistry" is right. I seem to remember that when I adopted Gleshka there was a 90 day clause that I could bring him back if it didn't work out. Of course that was never a question with Gleshka but, if the new cat and he have an apocalyptic rapport (i.e. "Dad, we are in perfect agreement on only one thing. We each want the other dead.") it may prove to be a necesary option for the new cat.
But this discussion has also got me thinking about fostering on a full time basis as volunteer work, though I don't know how well I could manage with cases that need a lot of attention due to the hours I work.
Then again... for years I didn't have a pet simply because I feared the responsibility. Looking back after ten years of cats in my life, I know that you'll make it work no matter what. One of the cats my ex and I had was diagnosed with renal failure and we gave her sub cutaneous fluids for about a year till she passed. It wasn't easy and we had a really hard time letting her go, but at least we got the chance to say goodbye.
I might start a new topic about fostering and get some advice from others who have fostered before. One concern I have is whether Gleshka can adapt to new kitties comming into and out of the house on a regular basis.
I imagine that, from his perspective, it would be a bit like if I came home from work one night to find Groucho Marx, Dick Vitale and Stephen Hawking sitting on my couch, watching my DVDs and eating my nom noms.
Though, my first thought might be, "I thought Groucho Marx was dead..."
I might find it hard to sleep that night, hearing that synthesized voice prattling on about black holes and quantum gravity, interspersed with shouts of "THAT'S AWESOME BABY!" and the quacking of a duck. But it would be even more disconcerting to come home the next night to find them all gone, replaced by Al Gore in a bunny suit drinking my beer and unplugging all my appliances.
In a word: confusing.
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