When Compassionate Kids Make Life Harder (But Are Right)

I meant to put up a post on Father's Day extolling the virtues of our dad and our husbands and fathers-in-law and brothers-in-law, but Life kind of had other plans, courtesy of Jordan and Shelby.  And sorry in advance for the crappy photos . . . I haven't had the time to even play with a photo editing program (read on).

Jordan and Shelby, or the Girls as they've been collectively called since they were born, are home from Temple this summer. A friend of ours asked if they could house sit and watch their dog, Ranger. The house also comes with a hot tub, so it was a pretty quick "Yes" on their part followed by a, "For god's sake, no parties," on our part. So, Saturday night, they left to check on Ranger. We get a phone call about ten minutes later. "We almost hit an animal on Glenbrook but we stopped to check and it was a kitten and now there are four kittens and you need to come quick and help us catch them because they are going to get hit so bring a box and some gloves because they are not in a good mood." So much for a calm night in with Dave.

Not being in a good mood was an understatement. The kittens were frightened and vocal, but after about 30 minutes, the Girls caught them all, separating them into three boxes and a reusable shopping bags (which will no longer be reusable). Dave and I went to Target, bought two larger boxes and some tape, poked holes in the boxes, and somehow managed to get them all into the new "homes" for the evening.

The Girls brought them over to our house the next morning while we tried to find a shelter for them because they were not staying with us any longer than was necessary. We called seven shelters but got the same response from each: sorry, we aren't taking kittens . . . we're full. The Pike County Humane Society said that they would accept them for a $25 fee (it's a bargain and if you can click on over there, they accept PayPal donations). Jordan and I took three of them the Humane Society but kept one little calico for the Girls and their apartment in Philadelphia. So, Olive Murray is resting comfortably upstairs. She's had a very long flea bath, lots of food, a trip to the vet, and much loving from the Girls, me, Dave, and the dog. Our cat? Hates her with a passion . . . which is why Olive will be leaving for Lancaster tomorrow to spend the summer with one of the Girls roommates.

Two things really pissed me off about this whole situation. The first one is obvious: if you are going to have a pet, do the right thing and get them spayed or neutered. The probability of your pet getting knocked up if you don't? Somewhere around 90%. Dumping the litter of kittens or puppies or whatever the hell you have on the side of the road in a semi-populated area doesn't solve the problem; it just makes you a douche. The second thing that really pissed me off was that no one stopped to see if the Girls needed help. Granted, the road we were on was twisty and it was dark, but if you see a car with its hazards on, at least stop and ask if everything is alright. 

The Girls returned to their house sitting duties on Sunday evening - this time with explicit instructions to leave any and all animals they find wandering around in the woods . . . no matter how cute they are.

- Jill

PS - This really should have been a birthday post for Erika since today is "that day" but again, Life got in the way. So that post will have to wait until later this week . . . but Happy Birthday, Erika! You've definitely made my life more interesting (and better times a bajillion)!