Foster Fail


The moment we met!

When I met her, she was about two weeks old – eyes just open, ears still bent, smush faced and a major lack of body coordination. Just a little ball of tabby cat love and fleas. She was born outside in a bush to a semi-feral neighborhood cat. I had agreed to take her, her littermates and their mom on as fosters. As I sat there, in a stranger’s home, holding this disgusting little mess of meowing fur on my chest for the first time, I knew I was in trouble. The weeks went by and the kittens grew and I began to look for their forever homes. She had beautiful symmetrical markings strewn across her medium length coat, the eyes of a supermodel and an inquisitive meow. Cautiously curious but quick to warm to new canine and human visitors, playful companion to the resident dog, and a quiet observer of the resident rats; she was a sweet, well socialized and reasonable kitten.


Tater Tot taking care of me when I was sick.

She was nothing I wanted and nothing I needed.   She was Tater Tot. And she has been my perfect companion.

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