Diane has done a fantastic job socializing these little boys and girl and they're on the adoption circuit. On Saturday morning we load up our Orphan kitties (Fagan, Oliver, Dodger and Rose) and head to Petco. Or Petsmart. There's some excitement on the way over. Fagan projectile vomits in the carrier and gets it all over Rose. And of course as soon as he pukes the Dodger and Oliver go right in to taste it. De-lish!
We walk into the pet store and there is a display of cages filled with little kitties and volunteers right as you walk in. Brilliant!
Er, nope. For the second time I have been betrayed upon entrance into this store. That prime real estate doesn't belong to the organization that provided us with the scary feral kitties. We're in the back. In an area that is barely the width of an isle. And there are tons of cats there. Ours are in the second layer of cat cages barely visible.
I don't give up. I slyly go to the front of the store and approach someone who is playing with the kitties. "They're are more in the back!" I whisper. Turns out that person is a volunteer not a potential adopter. Caught. Trying to poach. Ooooops.
I take Fagan out of the cage and carry him in my arms. I noticed someone looking at the kittens. I walk right up and say "Want to hold their brother?" Who can say no to that. The man holds Fagan for quite some time but not a taker.
I see a couple eying the kitties. I introduce them. "Fagan, Oliver..." The couple says "Awww, we just lost our cat Oliver. We had him for 18 years." Perfect, I think. Oliver is adopted. Nope.
So, we leave in no better shape than we came. Actually in worse shape. I have a few kitty scratches.
Happy Christmas in July.
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