Foster fail

To quote Agatha Christie

“and then there were three”.

“Three what” you might ask.  Three cats.  We are now the owner of three cats.  No, not three foster kittens.  Full fledge owner of our two resident adult cats, those who have traveled from North Carolina, to Texas, to California, to India (yes, India, as in the country of yummy spicy food), back to Texas, and now a black Floof.

One, two, three.

Yesterday was an awful day.  A horrible day.  We brought the three Floofs to their new families.  All went on the same day, which was probably a logistical/emotional mistake.  I had found three loving families.  Tango was handed over around 1pm, Kodi at 6:30 and MC at 7pm.  All met their new humans at the Petco close to our house.  I was sad.  I had prepared myself for that since the day I got them.  Hubby however was devastated, a wreck.  I can handle my own pain, my heavy heart, but not a heartbroken husband.  It was, to say the least, a very difficult night.

This morning I casually texted the new families to see how the kittens were adapting. I got a picture of MC sitting like a princess with her new pink collar.  Tango has slept all night on her new Momma.  But Kodi’s new buddy developed a rash.  Let’s wait a few days.  Nope.  A few hours later, the kid has broken out in hives.

So we got Kodi back. 

And we are keeping Kodi!

 

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