Andi Adopts Twins

What am I doing in a room inhabited by a small army of Care Bears? I am cuddling my new chocolate and white kitten and goddess, Cornellia! Up in the right hand corner of this pic, you'll see Cornellia's twin brother, an onyx and white fuzzy face named Rory. These two beautiful babies were put out as newborns, on the 4th of July, 2005. Abandoned. Left to fend for themselves, by some uncaring soul. I found them at the local animal shelter. Rory instantly went to my hubby Jack. Cornellia went for my ring. As she nibbled, she began purring so loud you could probably hear her from ten feet away! Both kittens were equally fascinated with our child. It was love at first sight for all.

If, as I do, you love animals of any kind, please... read on?

For the past year, I, along with my family and a few kind-hearted neighbors, have been taking care of the neighborhood strays. One poor tabby was attacked by a rooster. Yes... a rooster in a waterfront Jersey Shore community. The gray tabby was deeply scratched, diagonally across his face, wound open and festering. Another, a tortoise shell we called, 'Poozie' was so hot and thirsty during a heat wave, he was found emaciated, teetering on the edge of our birdbath/fountain, attempting to take a sip of the water within.  Yet another, 'Yellowcat' was simply abandoned by a home two doors down, put out, hungry and covered with fleas, and would often go right into the neighboring yards and homes, searching for food, care and affection. She was found one night by my husband, during a torrential downpour, out by our garbage cans, seeking shelter under a blown off lid.

Why do people do this to their pets? To animals.. those who share our world with us... those without voices? We did our best to help these poor creatures when we could. They were abandoned by their owners, but loved by all of us, especially the youngest member of our family.

One day in August,  my hubby saw the 'white truck with cages', that of the local petting zoo and animal shelter. It was parked two doors down, at the end of the street, in front of the house that had put out Yellowcat a year before. I wondered if my neighbor across the street finally made that call, for the animals' sake. So, I called her.

She said that the owners themselves had finally phoned the shelter, saying they could no longer care for their yellow cat. Somehow, Poozie and the gray tabby were captured and taken in. Poozie was our girl's favorite stray.

That was it. I cleared it with the boss *LOL*, and decided to go get Poozie and adopt him. I called the shelter. Yep, they had him. The next day, we were there. But Poozie and the other two had changed during their ordeal. They seemed almost.. drugged. Yellowcat was in a small metal cage alone in a corner, curled into a tight ball. He looked so dejected! The tabby was hissing at the world. Poozie was just zoned out. He was terrified.

We were were told Poozie and the others were pretty sick. One had fleas so bad, hair was coming out in thick patches.

"They will never be indoor cats," we were told by an attendant. "They refuse to eat. They probably eat only live food. Maybe table scraps. They won't get that here, and we won't let them go to anyone who would keep them as outdoor cats, to repeat this whole process. Once they're acclimated, if they're acclimated, before adoption they would also have to be spayed, possibly de-clawed..."

"But how old are they? " I asked.

"One's about 3, another 5, maybe 6. That one there's at least 7 years old. Maybe even 10."

"But wouldn't spaying them, and especially de-clawing them at this late age, mess them up even more? And... since it's a requirement for adoption, would they adapt to indoor life?"

"Probably not."

"So, what are you... Are you saying that they will probably..."

" Die here. Well, it's hard to find good homes for cats like this. And you should see the dogs..."

We could hear the dogs. By the dozens they were crying.

My heart dropped. I looked at my girl. She was so sad. Poozie had finally recognized us, and was doing his typical echo of her voice, meowing back at her every time she said his name.  He struggled to get out of  his cage, paws swatting at the bars, gripping them, slipping off.

There is an area at the shelter managed by rich folks. It's a gorgeous condo for cats whose wealthy owners passed away, and left them to the shelter. Through a wall of glass, we watched the few privileged cats play freely. They had their own courtyard, TVs, aquariums, beds, you name it. I didn't have much money. It was the end of the month. Ten dollars. I gave it to the manager. "Care for these three cats as long as you can. Make them well. Please?"

I was assured he would do so.

We returned five days later. All three were gone. Right away, my little one asked for Poozie. "Don't know about the other two, but I know where he is," announced the teenage assistant. "He got real sick. He was in the infirmary. Be right back."

She didn't come back.

We explored the whole shelter. Hundreds of animals, all just waiting to be given half a chance.  Later on, we ran into the teenager again. She looked at me, wide-eyed.

" They're dead, aren't they?" I asked, quite calmly, but seething.

"I think so," she muttered.

"Look Mommy! Kittens!" I heard my daughter exclaim, interrupting my thoughts.

I followed her gaze, and there they were. Just when my heart was broken for the three that could not be saved, came two more that could. And the rest, as we say, is history in the making.

Green-eyed Cornellia awakes from her cat nap.

Little Rory snuggling his stuffed wolf puppy.

The happy babies.

And these shall live Happily Ever After.

Will you adopt a pet or two?