When I was a kid, there were two girls down the street who’d been adopted. Their names were Didi and Barbie, and I don’t know if they were acquired from the Michigan Orphanage o’Future Strippers or what with those names.
The point is, I desperately wanted to be adopted as a result. It sounded so dramatic. Also, they had been foster children, and I thought that sounded pretty cool, too.
“Can I be a foster child?” “I want to be adopted.” I would say harangue my parents endlessly.
This prompted my father, who never should have been given a child to fuck with, the idea of telling me that he kept a foster child in his tripod case. “I take her on my trips with me,” he would tell me.
My father was a photographer, and was forever going on these business trips to exciting places like Cleveland, and he always took with him a tripod case that was about the same height I was.
I kind of knew he was fucking with me, and that he had zero coveted foster children anywhere, but I also slightly believed him. When he wasn’t looking, I used to kick that tripod case, just in case that foster bitch was in there.
The point of my story is that I have my own little tripod case now. Last week, on one of my days off, I went to the animal shelter because I am an idiot who does things like go to the animal shelter for fun.
They needed volunteers to foster their puppies and kittens, and we all know how well it goes when I bring home a puppy, but I figured I could bring home a kitten or 12.
This is Jodie Foster. She is my first foster child. It occurs to me now I should have named her Didi or Barbie.
She is a little boop.
I got her at the animal shelter first thing this morning, before they even officially opened, and I was so excited to get her home that I failed to ask many questions. I know she was a stray, but I don’t know what her backstory is.
She’s too young to really be adopted, and she needed a nice home to stay in rather than the stressful shelter.
Here is what I know about her so far. She has pretty much not sit still since I put her in this room. I have to keep her separate from my regularly scheduled cats, so she will be in my main bedroom with the huge walk-in closet. There are tons of places to climb, and warm place to sleep, and these are the two warmest rooms in the house for some reason.
None of my other animals have even noticed there’s a new pet here.
Jodie Foster caught her reflection in the mirror in here and got all puffy. That was hilarious. And while she still isn’t sitting still, she is spending a lot of time cuddling with me.
Here are the things I know you were going to say: June, you are not going to be able to return this cat. You are going to adopt her.
But I know I’m not. I have enough animals. I really can’t afford another one. And I really don’t want to be the person with four fucking cats. This is just something I wanted to do because it’s a nice thing, and I love getting some kitten strange.
I have a lot of freelance work to do today, and some Christmas shopping to get done, which I guess I’m going to be doing online in this room.
This is actually a great excuse to isolate. Go, me!
In a whole circle of life thing, NedKitty did meet her maker last night. I went over to Ned’s house, and was there while it happened. She died on Ned’s lap.
Here’s another thing I know you’re going to say: Ned will take this kitten. He won’t. In a million years, he won’t. He so isn’t ready.
But I say, one’s always ready for some kitten strange.