This is a sponsored post on behalf of all homeless kitties everywhere.
A few years ago, not long after Boatman and I had officially become Boatman and I, there was a cyclone bearing down on Darwin.
Now being the protective heroic type that he is, Boatman decided that it wasn’t safe for Taylah and I to take refuge in the laundry of our sturdy housing commission flat, but we should come with him to his friends house. There was a large garage that was sure to be safe in the event of severe winds. (Turns out the roller doors on said garage are terribly dangerous in a cyclone, but thankfully it never came so we didn’t have to learn that lesson the hard way.)
The morning after the storm that wasn’t, I arrived home, keen to check on my cat, who had evaded capture the night before, and spent the crazy weather roaming the streets.
Or so I thought.
Instead I came home to discover her on my front door step, engaged in some loud, rather painful look amorous activity with the Tom from down the road.
Can I just say, there is nothing romantic about big cats making baby cats. In fact, that particular act should be video taped and used in schools for sex ed as a form of contraception. Poor Chleo was pinned under this nasty animal, meowing in terror and pain (it certainly didn’t sound like pleasure), whilst he had his way with her, and then walked off once done.
It was mildly traumatic.
Even worse though, was that for the next two days, despite the horror already thrust (literally) upon her, the darn cat kept escaping the house in order to fornicate some more.
With several different males!
Not only was she actively pursuing her own violation, but she was doing it in a rather tarty way!
That was the moment I learnt that when it comes to sex, cats have no self control.
About 4 months later I learnt that kittens are so flipping cute!
I mean really, really cute.
So when I read about the foster kitty program, I thought that was such a cool idea. To be fair, I almost didn’t learn of it at all, on account of receieving an email from Chairman Meow, and then almost dismissing it as spam. (Cause who is called that?)
Until I read this:
Right about now, millions of mums are trying to working out what the hell to do over Christtmas. The liquor cabinet is full in preparation and The kids are about to come home and destroy the fabric of harmony that you spent months creating, husbands are planning the “sudden fishing trip with Wazza” (he’s having a few issues at home . . drinky drinky) and all those projects that were planned for the break will get sidelined for a series of eating frenzy’s occasionally interrupted by the screams of Santa being burned to a crisp in the nice new Weber.
Before mum settles into the first cask of Christmas I’d like to offer them a project
In Sydney, we need foster carer mums for bouncy fun, kid entertaining kittens. Kittens that can entertain children. Kittens and Mums that will listen to you.
Many of them come with mums . . mums that do all the work for you. (Just like the real ones) . . Mums that do the feeding, change the nappy and keep the kids in line.
All readers need to supply is cat food and water . . and a safe place for mum and kittens (or just kittens) to sleep in.
And the best thing? At the end of January just before School comes back, you can give them back! By then they will be all played out and social and ready for a new home.
So where do these kittens come from? Well, you know the drill, around about this time of year Daddy and Mummy cats love each other very much for a short 5 seconds, then daddy buggers off leaving mum with divorce papers and a huge child maintenance bill. Kitty parental planning is a bit hit and miss these days, so mum ends up going to a shelter with other little old ladies. That’s where we come in. Armies of cat finding heroines and the odd gay male who then transport, feed and negotiate barrels of kitty action to homes all around the city.
Honestly, best PR pitch ever! Plus an awesome idea. You can literally borrow a whole bunch of kitteny cuteness for the holidays, help out a shelter, give the kids something to do, and then give them back.
If they did it in Darwin, I would totally be putting both hands up.
So whose in?