I’ve decided to foster a cat for the summer. And I’m kind of terrified.
I have one cat already, a great big goofy orange boy, who I adore. Adopting him was a big decision, because I move around so much with my day job. He still hates the car, but he adapts very quickly to our succession of new homes, and we’ve settled in nicely together. I adore him beyond reason.
In the last few weeks, I have felt HUGE guilt. My current contract is nuts, and I’m working from 8am to 7pm most days. My cat is home alone in the apartment all day. And I go to bed early, so he’s alone again, really, all night. I play with him as much as I can, but I’m also exhausted a lot of the time. And he was starting to seem bored and depressed.
So I’m mostly fostering another cat to keep him company. He has lived with other cats before. My sister’s cat came to stay for a while, and they were great friends. And he has always seemed like a cat who would love a companion to play with and wrestle with. I’ve always kind of intended to get a second cat, but I was worried that the logistics would be too complicated.
And then I found out that the daughter of a colleague fosters out rescue cats. A friend of mine has already taken one in, so I spoke to him this morning about the process, and he gave my number to the girl who fosters out the cats. I was kind of expecting it to be a slow burn kind of project, but she texted me this evening and we went through the details, and Emily, a 2-year-old tortie, comes to stay tomorrow evening.
And I’m SO excited, but I’m also a worrier. I worry that Emily will beat up on my boy, or hurt him. I worry that they won’t get along and I’ll have to send her back. I worry that they will get along, but I’ll end up with an allergy attack. I worry that she’ll destroy my rented apartment. I worry that she’ll teach my boy bad habits. And I worry that having another cat around will change the relationship with me and my boy, and that would break my heart.