Two weeks ago Bart the cat headed back to the shelter. I was going to be out of town and he had procedures planned: bandage change followed by cardiology appointment. He was still very sick when I left him sneezing and bandaged. My soul hurt not knowing if he was getting better, going to be diagnosed with a fatal heart murmur, or dying from complications due to his other problems. Right before I left on my trip the shelter called: Bart was doing okay, but couldn’t go to the cardiologist until he was 100% healthy, which he was not. They mentioned he would likely need foster care again, if I was willing when I got home.
I decided I was willing. From Washington DC I e-mailed to let the foster folks know I was heading home and could pick Bart up if they needed me. An emphatic “Yes” was delivered to my inbox. When I arrived last Tuesday he was bandage free, upper respiratory infection free, but his nose was a bloody mess. Having had a snotty cold for three weeks his nasal passages were a wreck, so I was told to take him home, get the humidifier on him, and bring him back in a week if his nose stopped bleeding. Only then could he get his heart murmur evaluated. (He also can’t be actively bleeding at the cardiologist.)
Well friends, I’m here to tell you that I might not be the cat grim reaper. Look at this beauty! Bandage gone, bloody nose gone, fur free of blood, and Bart cleans up quite well. Almost a week of damp kitty humidification action and he looks like a cat that will find a home in no time.
I’m so happy. This was what my foster experience was supposed to be. The shelter and I worked in partnership to make Bart well. I’ll take him back Tuesday night and the cardiologist will evaluate him Wednesday. If all goes well he could be up for adoption Wednesday night. This boy could have a new home by Christmas, and I’m actually hopeful for the first time in my foster career. The best part is that even though he loves my daughter I don’t feel like he’s our family’s cat. While I’ll be sad when we leave him Tuesday it all worked out the way it was supposed to: Bart was sick, we got him healthy and he and his huge purr will make some family an amazing pet. I still don’t think that this is the best way for our family to help make the world a better place, but I feel healed knowing that our first litter was bad luck, not some kind of horrible cat curse.
If you are in the Denver area and in search of a new cat, drop me a message. I can hook you up with a winner. Mr. Bart will steal your heart away.