What we pay for our POVs

I’ve had all kinds of kittens over the years, some of whom were instantly fall-in-loveable, others who made me wonder if they would ever find a home. There were a few that should not have been alive after coming down with incurable diseases, others who were so terrified of humans that I had to corral them in a dog crate to meet potential adopters, knowing they would otherwise climb up inside the mattress of the guest room and disappear.

They all found homes. Really good ones.

And for two months I’ve had two of the sweetest, bravest, most beguiling sisters (now around 4 months old) and despite all my best efforts, I have not been able to find them a home! What was their “problem?” Emma and Lizzie are black. Gorgeous, fluffy, outgoing ebony babies.

It never even occurred to me that this could be the reason until a fellow rescuer noted that it always took her much longer to adopt out black kittens. A quick online search revealed this is true across the board: black kittens sometimes languish in shelters much longer than their orange, tabby or tuxedo friends. And why? There seems to be no scientific evidence, unless it’s perhaps that people still think black kitties are a little spooky, a little witchy? I only know that I find them bewitching.

And so I wait, trying to be confident that someone will want to cherish them… and hopefully before my festival starts in three weeks. 😉 But I’d settle for anytime as long as it’s a good home and they can be together.

I’ve been thinking about other examples of times when closing our minds trips us up in regards to our feline friends. I can’t say how many times people have been talking to me about this or that adult cat who was living the feral life, “so of course was not adoptable.” I then become this irritating evangelist, challenging them to open their minds, and pointing out that even adult ferals can be domesticated! And then I have to tell the tale of Big Mike, who was already 3 when he showed up badly wounded and I took him home and got him healed. He took to indoor living immediately, but was still pretty scared of humans, though he tolerated me.

It took a year of patient affections and giving him space, but now I can’t get him off my lap! The only reminders that he used to be a feral are his ears, tattered by fights long ago.

Or take Pokey, who was alpha guy of the parking lot when I trapped and brought him home six years ago when he was already around 7 years old! He was crippled from having been hit by a car in his youth, and sick with chronic upper respiratory issues and FIV. He also barely tolerated my touch. And yet, less than a year later and with health stabilized, he became my living, breathing teddy bear – the cat that sleeps with me and is such a good snuggler!

I think sometimes inexperience is our friend, as it was when I innocently just assumed Pokey would become a lap cat. Years later, people can’t believe he actually did.

So come on, folks. Give these sweet black kittens a chance. They are going stir-crazy in my spare bedroom and need someone to love them 24/7, as I’m unable to do. Saint Francis, I could use your help in bringing the perfect home into view. Until then I’m keeping my mind open.