“So, how many cats do you have now?” asked the blonde veterinary technical as she prepared the bill for the kittens’ last round of vaccinations last night.

“Umm,” I hesitated, anticipating the wide-eyed look that was sure to follow. “Sebastian and Sydney make six and then I have a foster kitty. It’s like a feline Brady Bunch.” I omitted mention of the four neighborhood cats who’ve laid claim to our front porch.

The eyes widened, but only slightly. I would find out later that she has her own fair share of furbabies, and recently rescued the momma cat and kittens left by her neighbors when they moved to Florida. There is a shared understanding among suckers for a furry face in that we are all patients in the same mental ward.

“So, who are you with?” she asked.

“Who am I with?” I asked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I mean, which rescue organization are you with?” she replied.

“I’m not,” I said, with a laugh. “Oh, no, the craziness is all mine.”

—————————————————————-

Meet Sebastian and Sydney, and foster kitty Nigel (who we’ll also probably end up keeping)