Friday, April 26, 2013

Tails of a Foster Fur Mom: Goodbye Geronimo!



Guest Blogger: Susan Gottfried

We humans tend to mark our progress in life by firsts. I had a first today: the first time I cried as I returned a foster kitty so he could find his forever home.

The cat, of course, was Geronimo. I've been writing about him over the past five months, which is how long he'd been living with me and the kids. Let me tell you: in five months, you get awfully attached to a cat! Already, there's a hole in my house and I've only been back from dropping him off in his new condo for an hour. 


In the end, it all happened fast. Yesterday, I got a call from the vet tech who works with the foster program. Geronimo's bladder stones had been biopsied. They were a rare variety – and all he needed was a different prescription food. So long as he's on this food, the stones won't recur. Because of this, he was being cleared for adoption as soon as a cat condo opened up for him.
Hours after I'd picked up the new food, I got the call. Geronimo would have a condo spot today. I only had fifteen hours left with the world's coolest cat.  


And he is that cool. From exploring the vet's office to jumping onto the counter where the vet's computer sat, purring at full volume, to the ultra-cool white ring on the end of his impossibly long tail, nothing about Geronimo isn't cool. He played with Milo and Lucy like they were old friends—even when Lucy wasn't so sure she wanted to be his friend. He didn't care. He just kept trying until he wore her down. 

This morning, as the kids and I had breakfast, Geronimo streaked around the house, chasing and being chased by a furry tabby queen: Lucy. She wasn't growling. In fact, she was having a ball. So was Geronimo. 


I smiled and shook my head. Geronimo brought us something intangible over the past five months. He walked out of his carry box into our foster room and plopped down like he'd been here forever. As far as Geronimo was concerned, he was home. 


No wonder everyone said he's the coolest cat they've ever met. He rolled with everything we threw at him: the surgery, even a ride home in the car during a thunderstorm and deluge of rain that drowned out his protests at being jammed into a cat carrier. Loud pre-teen boys and girls who like to keep their bedroom door shut. Through it all, he purred. That boy has volume control, folks. He knows how to modulate his purr for maximum impact. He knows how to jump up on a bed and pick the perfect spot so the inhabitant is nothing but delighted.




Forget reading the newspaper. You're more apt to have a Frogonimo, the name I'd call him when he'd lay splay-legged on something—which he does fairly often, whenever he's fully comfortable and content. 


Yeah, whoever is smart enough to take this guy into their house, feed him his special diet, and love this guy is going to get back ten times more than they put into him. And when you think about how easy it is to love a cool cat, you know that you're putting a lot of love in. 


Stop on down and visit Geronimo. Go fast; cool cats like this one don't hang around long.
I'll be back with my next foster adventure as soon as it begins. I hear a rumor of  more kittens in the future...

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