I received the strangest stares today at the vet clinic as I unloaded carrier upon carrier from my truck. Carting the kittens into the waiting area, there were a few interested parties (simply wanting to know why I had so many kittens) but there were no takers for these beauties.

I told Dr. Ben that these kittens were an early Christmas gift (but he was not amused) although he did laugh.

I sat waiting for the kittens to be brought out after the neuter and started calculating. If there is nothing wrong with these kittens and they live as long as most inside kitties do, I will be over seventy years old when they breathe their last breath.

I look at the apathy towards these kittens, weigh in the fading economy who even with “Rah Rah Obama” at the helm doesn’t seem to be better. I take into consideration how badly the bank wants our house right now, and not because of the house, but the land, plus we are not upside down on the payments (yet) we are just running a bit late.

It used to be in rescue that it was all about the survival of the cat or kittens, but now, it has come down to our survival. It’s a simple equation with complex factors, but I did the math. I am out of rescue as of this day-

Not five minutes after I wrote this, I went outside to put food out for the kitties in the enclosure. I saw Sundance, a kitten who had survived the distemper outbreak and then gotten out of the house and vanished. I have not seen him in months! I certainly do not need another cat, but this is different, this is Muddy’s brother. He moves away from me but not in a mad scramble, so I have to believe that some part of him does still remember me. Wish me luck in the next few days as I try to gain his trust and bring him inside with the rest-