The fosters may not have grown noticeably in the physical department but in the kitten or personality areas, they are now all over the house. They go from zero to 60 back to zero in a matter of minutes, aka awake to running/chasing everywhere and back to collapsing into a spontaneous nap wherever they can. This morning I caught them nursing and cuddling with their mother on our couch. I love the squishy look one of the gray girls is giving as her sister and brother put on the squeeze. Tux (or as I’ve nicknamed him, Aggie’s mini-me) is racing up the couch to get my attention.
They’ve progressed to eating solid food so it might be time for London (the mama) to leave. With our first fostering attempt, the mother, Roxy, stuck around much longer and then became a foster failure (she lives with Cheyenne and Mason). Roxy got along with Jennifer’s pride. London…well, she’s an asshole. There’s being protective of the babies yet none of our adult cats really feel threatened enough to harm the quartet. This mama takes no chances. Despite being a mere three pounds, she aggressively charges and screams at Metztli, Agamemnon and Nubby. Isis and Vegas hide. The dynamics have been disturbed too much via the piss and crap we’re finding where it shouldn’t be. Sadly, this was rarely an issue until London. I fear it’s for the best and I worry she’ll have some difficulty being adopted. The majority of people want a kitten, few (like me) pursue an adult cat who also wants a home and be loved. I think London will mellow out once the maternal hormones have worked their way out of her system, allowing her to be a typical selfish house cat.