Nicola Davies describes the joys of
fostering kittens for her local animal rescue centre.
I already had Sophie, Layla and Ziggy when I started
fostering — all wonderful cats with unique personalities and enough energy and
affection to keep me occupied for hours. I wanted more though! I wanted to spread
my love further by looking after cats that were less fortunate than my own.
Fostering seemed like the perfect option. My fi rst fostering experience was
with a beautiful tabby queen called Lola. She was only two years old and still
tiny when I took her in. She had about six weeks of pregnancy left, which we
spent developing a strong relationship. We would lay together while I massaged
her stomach, feeling the odd kick here and there. I knew Lola was getting ready
to give birth when she kept going to her bed, squatting and then coming back
out. I sat on the fl oor, away from her but there if she needed me. To my joy,
she chose to sit with me; she was letting me share the experience with her.
Everything went well and the biggest surprise was she had six little fur balls,
as opposed to the predicted three!
RAISING A LITTER
Lola
was a fabulous mum and didn’t leave their side for the fi rst few days. On day
two, she moved them one by one into the wardrobe for extra safety. She was a
proud mum and I was a proud fosterer.
"Having to part with them at the end of the foster
period can be extremely emotional.
It was now time to socialise these little bundles of
cuteness, who I named Dexter, Super Hans, Jekyll, Freckle, Tatty Coram and
Little Dorrit. This involves training them to be friendly and sociable, as well
as teaching them how to amuse themselves with toys (not that they needed much
teaching — they kept each other amused!). Every morning, when I opened the door
to the cat sanctuary I had made them, I would be bombarded by six excited
kittens, ready for more socialisation. How could such a sight not put a smile
on your face? How could you not feel pride as they use the litter tray for the
fi rst time or bravely venture into another room? Whenever my cats were out, I
would give Lola and her kittens free run of the house; they loved bounding up
and down the stairs and jumping out on each other. Little Dorrit would always
be wherever I was, often watching the computer screen as I worked. Fostering is
a rewarding and enjoyable experience, but having to part with them at the end
of the foster period can be extremely emotional. There was one kitten who stole
my heart — Little Dorrit. After dropping her and her siblings off at the animal
shelter, my heart ached. I was even having fl ashbacks to her little face,
peering out from behind a chair as I said goodbye. I couldn’t stand it. I had
to go back for her. As I drove back home, Little Dorrit by my side, I wondered
if I was a ‘failed fosterer’. I stopped wondering when Little Dorrit yelped
with joy at returning to her forever home. Today, at 18 months old, she is such
a special little cat and has gently eased herself in with my three others .
A REWARDING TASK
My next experience was with Feta, another tabby
kitten. Feta couldn’t yet be adopted due to a heart condition that was being
investigated. However, she was distressed at the animal shelter, so she found
herself living with me. She went from hiding under the wardrobe to a
strokeobsessed purring machine in seconds. And this sums Feta up — strokes,
strokes, strokes. That is all she was interested in. You really wouldn’t have
guessed she was ill either. She would run around and play until she was
panting. She did everything any other kitten could and became best buddies with
Little Dorrit.
"I wanted to spread my love further by looking after
cats that were less fortunate than my own.
Tests revealed that while Feta had a hole in her heart,
she should be fi ne and could be put up for adoption. I was concerned that her
heart defect might make this diffi cult, but I shouldn’t have worried — she’s a
farm cat now, roaming around with cows, sheep and horses. With Little Dorrit
growing up and exploring the outdoors more, the house was feeling far too calm
without any kittens around — so I was pleased when my local animal rescue asked
if I could foster a black and white feral kitten, Dave. Of course I could! He
turned out to be ginger and white, not black and white, and it wasn’t until
he’d been with me for a couple of days that I discovered there had been a
mix-up. Dave was, in fact, Dozy. Either way, he was adorable and far from the
hissing mass of fur I was warned many feral kittens are. By the end of his fi
rst day, he was on my lap with his little white belly in the air. By day two, his
cheeky personality had emerged. He would tap me with his little paw and then
run away, or peep around a corner and then hide. He was extremely playful and
would chirrup to get my attention. Dozy wasn’t with me for long, but he
certainly left his mark and I know he’ll make his new family very happy. I’m
not fostering at the moment, but have no doubt I will in the future. There is
so much to give and so much to gain. I can’t recommend it highly enough!
