The stars must have been in turbulent places this last week, as everywhere I turned there was drama and uncertainty. Starting with a completely unnecessary war of words with the head of a prominent animal welfare organization, continuing through Mocha’s downturn (she is mostly refusing food again), and further torpedoing my equilibrium by discovering a terrible skin condition on Pokey that I somehow never found, and concluding with major disappointment that someone who was interested in adopting Little Maude is now waffling and unsure. I suppose that without these tests, we’d take our successes for granted. Right? RIGHT? 😉
I’ve also found myself lately wishing I had a switch to turn my heart off and on, from “full reception” to “tough nut to crack.” I was at the nursery today – a place I’ve been going for 25 years – and asked the woman owner if she still had a kitty hanging around the place. No, she said – “only this one feral one who lives in the greenhouse, but we can’t get near it.” I asked if she fed this kitty and she said no, that it fed itself on rodents and whatever else it could find. She seemed to think this was an okay arrangement, but I find these situations awfully damn one-sided. Their rodent population stays down, and in exchange the cat gets… nothing. I found myself growing angry before I paid for my daffodils and left, worrying about this anonymous black cat I’d never seen. Damn these critters for making me worry, and for making me care. (Would I have it be any other way? Probably not, but it can get exhausting.)
Little Maude might still have a home with an elderly woman who saw her in the parking lot, but she is concerned about her age (85) and about her ability to care for Maude. I told her I could put it in writing that I would take Maude back should something happen to her, but she is understandably concerned. Maude was on her best behavior when she met Geri: when I picked her up, she was quite content for quite a few minutes. She’s such a sweet girl and I worry about her (are you getting a theme here?) living in the parking lot.
If Geri decides she wants her, I would have to take her home with me for a few weeks to make sure she is socialized enough to be able to use the cat box and not try to escape. But the inn is not only FULL, it’s full of special-needs creatures right now, with Mocha needing constant care, and Pokey eating himself alive because of his skin condition. Sigh.
I won’t even go into the fracas with the animal welfare executive, it was so ridiculous. And I still have hopes of working with this person in the future.
In the meantime, I tend the morning flock, and worry about finding a petsitter willing to take on what it is I do every day. I have one month to find one before I need to go to L.A. for Litquake. Let me know if you have ideas! And St. Francis, I’m holding out my arms for guidance and help.