Life of the Lintee Bean

If in doubt as to which category to place a post, put it in all of them – surely one of them is close enough.

I’ve been fostering cats for several rescue organizations/shelters since 2005.  It’s interesting the different responses you get when people find out you foster.  Some think it sounds like great fun, especially those people that love kittens and all their kitten-y antics.  Others think it’d be “too hard to let them go” and they’d “want to keep them all”.  Some just think you’re a crazy nutcase or too soft-hearted.

What do I think?  I think fostering is hard.  For me, it gets harder the longer I do it.  I started out fostering mother cats with litters of kittens.  They’re not really a lot of “work” – you feed them, and keep their litterboxes and rooms clean, and basically keep them from taking up needed space at the shelter.  I do find them rather exhausting.  I know the majority of potential adopters prefer kittens, but I certainly don’t.  Kittens eat a LOT – way more (at least per pound) than adults.  They are also into and on top of EVERYTHING.  They climb your legs, scratching the heck out of you.  They knock over and rip apart and destroy everything in their room – dragging bedding through dirty litter boxes and spilling water dishes into food bowl and (especially if fed dry food) having diarrhea all over the place.  Not fun – at least not my idea of fun.

I also do worry about them.  I don’t want to keep them, not at all, but I wonder what will happen when/if they are adopted.  Most kittens are adopted, and pretty quickly if they’re socialized, but there’s certainly no shortage of cats or kittens and there’s always the chance they won’t find a home at all.  (More than 20,000 companion animals are put to death a year in Chicago simply for lack of homes – and around 8,000 of those are “perfect”, with no behavior or medical issues whatsoever.)  I worry that even if they are adopted, that their adopters will tire of them after a year or two, when they’re not young and kitten-y.  I worry their adopters will feed/care for them inappropriately and they won’t have the quality of life I’d hope for them.  I *know* many adopters will feed them only commercial dry (kibble) food and someday they’ll become diabetic or obese,  or they’ll suffer from kidney disease or gastro-intestinal problems like IBD.  I *know* for the kittens I’ve fostered, they have diarrhea on dry food, but not on canned.  Their little bodies will probably adjust – for at least a while – but that brings me no comfort.

Most of my fosters are “special needs”.  Since I’ve experience with diabetes and IBD, I’m often on the very short contact list for rescue organizations looking for a foster home for one of these cats.  I originally loved the idea of helping these cats.  I obviously can’t adopt them all, and I thought this was a fantastic way to help some more cats.  Most diabetic cats and cats with IBD can be stabilized through diet change alone.  Certainly, I could make them more “adoptable” if the adopter had only to continue their “special” diet.

So, I’ve fostered five cats with diabetes and three cats with IBD (in addition to the cats I’ve adopted).  Someone once said I must feel fantastic, having helped all those cats.  Truthfully?  I don’t.  I’m honestly beginning to wonder if there’s any point to it.

Of the five diabetics I’ve fostered, I got two off insulin permanently, and two more off insulin temporarily, but for whatever reason (pancreatitis?) they went back on insulin.  Of the two I got off insulin permanently – both died in a shelter,  still unadopted.  Apparently no one wanted to take on a cat that needed the “special care” of a canned food-only diet.  They died for reasons unrelated to the diabetes.  Of the two I got off temporarily – one I adopted personally, and the other has been sitting in my basement almost six months, waiting for another foster home or adopted home.  I’m fostering him at present, but have given the rescue organization a deadline of September 16 and they have no prospects currently for another foster or adopted home for this sweet little guy.  No one wants to take on a cat that requires a quick little blood sugar test and insulin – something I can do in less than five minutes, twice a day.  The fifth diabetic cat had an adopted home lined up when I started fostering her – and she went there two weeks after I took her in.  She’s my one “success story” and she also passed away for reasons unrelated to her diabetes seven months after she was adopted.

Looking at the three with IBD – one also had diabetes, and was the one I adopted.  Her IBD was controlled solely by diet.  The other two I also was able to manage on diet alone, weaning them off all medication.  One went to another foster home, and is still waiting for an adopter.  The other was adopted – and abandoned a year later, and put back into foster care, and I started all over getting him managed on diet again.

So, seven “special needs” fosters in total – with one success story (if you consider living in a loving home for seven months a success – I do, perhaps my standards are too low but being in a loving home at all, ever, is more than most of these cats can hope for).  It doesn’t exactly inspire me, and at this point I’m planning a break from fostering.  Will I feel guilty every time I’m approached with another sad story, knowing that if I say “no” it’s entirely likely the cat will be euthanized?  I sure will.  I do now, when I’m asked and I’m not able or not willing to take on one more at the time.  There’s the old saying “you can’t save them all” and unfortunately, it’s all too true.

The additional straw on this camel’s back is how many people will either assume you’ll foster or adopt one more, or help you feel like the world’s biggest female-dog-in-heat because you either won’t foster or adopt the cat, or will put limits on how long.  “You’ll only foster the cat for seven months, knowing it might be put to sleep if you don’t foster it longer?  Wow, you are mean!”

So, I’ve got an adorable little guy in my basement, and I’ll go home tonight and test his blood sugar and feed him and pet him.  He’ll be cute as anything and run around the room and rub against my legs, meowing in excitement at my visit.  My eyes will fill up with tears and I’ll hope and pray that someone will step up and take care of him, knowing his chances aren’t good.  Yeah, I feel “fantastic”, warm and fuzzy all over.  NOT.