Foster Cat

I still have Edgar, my foster cat.  In the two months since he arrived, he has gone from hiding to being a lap cat, who rushes to greet me. 

When Pasado’s Safe Haven, the group that rescued him,  put his photo on their web site, I had high hopes that someone would adopt him.

That has not yet happened but something unexpected did:  Three people who read that story came forward and offered to be foster parents for other rescued cats.  So three of the cats who were rescued with Edgar are now also being given individual attention and socialization. 

I did not know when I volunteered to foster a cat that this doesn’t happen often. Most people who foster animals take dogs.  Even though Edgar is still waiting for his permanent home, I feel I’ve helped him and, indirectly, helped other cats.

Edgar’s room used to be my husband’s piano workshop. It was filled with antique instruments and interesting projects.  Carl built wonderful bird houses, and did some amazing wood carving projects.  After Carl died, and the space was cleared of the instruments on which he had been working, that room seemed too empty.  I wanted to use it in a good way, a way that brought life and laughter back to the space. 

Fostering Edgar has done that.  What could be more lively that a big black cat wildly chasing a yellow feather on the end of a stick?  The room has windows for bird-watching and a high counter where Edgar’s food is safe from Lucy, my dog, when she visits him.  When I stand at Carl’s workbench, brushing Edgar and hearing him purr, I know that I’ve used this space wisely. There is life and love and laughter there once more.