Inside Buddy Foster's World
Life is not a field of catnip. The world does not revolve around Buddy Foster. There is no kitty spa.
I am a foster cat.
The past two weeks have been a journey to self-actualization. I have gone through the three stages of foster cat acceptance – delusion, dejection, determination. (Hereafter to be known as the Buddy Foster Model of Foster Cat Actualization.) The trauma of separation from Mommy and Poppy, internment in a dog infested prison, and installation in a new home all took their toll on my psyche. To deal with this never – before – known stress I became delusional, then dejected before I finally became determined to see life as it is.
Last week I spent at the “kitty spa”.(See my last post.) My poor brain in an attempt to make sense of what was happening to me, convinced me that the house I was in was actually a spa for privileged cats. I deluded myself into thinking that I was on vacation. Perhaps I needed this. It allowed my mind and body to rest and to live through an otherwise stressful period. The self has its own ways of helping us through those difficult times.
A few days ago I came to my senses. I knew where and what I was. Dejection, melancholy, depression are just a few words to describe my mood. My feelings changed. My behaviour changed with them. I am embarrassed now when I think of how I acted. I jumped on tables with the intention of breaking household bric – a – brac, and, in fact, did topple and break a glass bowl. I am so ashamed when I think of how my new mommy didn’t scold me, just swept up the pieces so I wouldn’t cut my paws. I bit mommy several times (but, of course, I never break the skin, just cover fingers with my teeth and look mad). I threw up three times intentionally, once on the living room rug. Again, Mommy was so kind and concerned for me. Even the man didn’t get upset but he had no intention of cleaning it up.
A few days ago I experienced an epiphany. I had just snuggled with New Mommy, eaten my favourite canned gourmet food and was luxuriating in the French Provincial chair assigned to my sole use,watching a bedraggled cat hide under a bush to escape the blustering storm. Bazinga! I had it pretty good! I belonged to that class of privileged cat destined to be forever cared for by man(or woman). I was in the system. My life was laid out for me. All I had to do was be relatively adorable and not too nippy and humans would be forever at my beck and call. I still missed Old Mommy and Poppy but I had found a good home and if I am adopted, New Mommy will make sure it is to a nice family with no other pets and no children.
Life at times seems unbearable for us all but we must be thankful for what we have and work hard to improve it.
I am Buddy Foster and I am a contented cat.
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