Furry Kind of Love

Projects have been overtaking my life these last few weeks which is both a good thing and a bad thing. Good in the sense that things are getting done such as rooms are painted, clutter is cleared, and deep cleaning is happening, which makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The only drawback to spring cleaning is my lack of writing.

Today’s post is an effort to keep my writing alive, while still having uncompleted projects on my to-do list. This article isn’t about cleaning or organizing, but a pause (or paws, see what I did there!) to celebrate Mom’s day specifically for the unsung hero’s know as fur-moms.

First, in honor of Mothers day, I must pay homage to my amazing mom, who is an inspiration to me as she strives to keep moving, keep healthy and keep her joy about life for all the world to see. My mom has taught me many vital life skills such as how to fold a fitted sheet, how never go to bed with dishes in the skin (still working on that one mom) and most importantly she’s taught me my love for animals. We always had dogs and cats growing up, but beyond that my mom seemed to befriend all the wildlife that passed through our yard. I remember Becky the raccoon, nutty the squirrel, and the countless deer she named, specifically Gimpy and Dot named for apparent reasons. And the two new additions this year Mr. & Mrs. Quack, the resident ducks, but I think my dad named them. In all the years that I’ve seen my mom in action around animals, I swear she is Snow White’s long lost relative.

So, it was by her example, and soft heart for animals that I ended up the proud fur-mom to Friday, BB & Blue, three rescues that I have the joy of spoiling and they have the joy of robbing me of sleep. My first born is my girl Friday, a Maltese, Yorkie; Poodle rescued six years ago from the streets of Tremont, OH. She was just a puppy back then at only a year and a half old. I shiver at the thought of my sweet Friday wandering alone on the streets a matted and flea’d up mess, having to defend for herself. Thank God, and I do daily, that we found each other.

Next comes the fraternal twins, BB & Blue, who turned one this past February.  A year ago I fostered a pregnant mom-cat through the Cleveland APL who gave birth to six beautiful kittens three boys and three girls. They were all so perfect in their unique ways it was hard to resist, and resist I tried. But, as the story goes, I was a foster fail primarily due to Blue coming into this world a sleepy black blob of tuxedo cuteness which matched Friday’s tuxedo look perfectly. Then there was this little blonde and white kitten that would dart around like a bee and then fall asleep in my hands which just melted my heart.

I threw caution to the wind and adopted the twins in April of 2018 and haven’t looked back since. Sure, I was sleep deprived for the first year as the kittens were growing, getting into trouble and waking me up at all hours of the night with their antics, but knowing that I get to give them the best life possible makes it all worthwhile.

Of course, as any pet-parent knows all too well, I dread the day they each pass on to the rainbow bridge and leave me behind (seriously crying just thinking about my life without any one of them). I think a scarier thought is if I went before them. Who would know that Friday needs to have her night shirt put on because her brother Blue likes to use her had a suckling blanket at night?

Who would know that Blue will come running to me when I show him the comb even though he quietly protest when I get too close to his tail? Who would know that BB’s play biting is actually a love thing, even though she will get blood if you’re not careful! Who would my kitties leave toy offerings for in the middle of the night in my bedroom if I wasn’t around?

Ah, the thought is too much to handle, but by the grace of God, I have many more years left with my brood of three. Even if I am just a glorified food dispenser and poop cleaner wiping butts and cutting poop from long fur, it’s all worth it when they give me that satisfied and safe look as we snuggle on the couch at night. I may not have planned on being only a fur-mom, but to me, it’s just as rewarding.

To all the fur-mom’s out there, Just because our furkids can’t buy us a Mother’s Day card and give us flowers doesn’t mean they don’t tell us each day how they feel. Every face lick, tail wag, zoomies, crazy kitty mode, purring sessions, and tail wrapping around our legs is their unconditional way of saying  “I luv you hu-mom.”

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