Sunday, January 3, 2016

In which there are kitties


I had wanted to post this photo a few weeks ago, to go with Sly's funeral, but I lost it and couldn't find it and talking about kittens in a cage at the farmers market doesn't make so much sense without a photo.

But Stephanie and I went to the farmers market the weekend of Sly's funeral, which is one of the few things that made being in Florida bearable that weekend and two of my workdays. Yes, my company gives funeral leave, which is very generous, and my boss is fabulous, but I don't like being at Sly and Doris' house, even under the circumstances, and my work does not go away just because I am not there, so I was still trying to get work done and I was having to deal with Ted and Ted'sWife and Ted'sSon and Primo was dealing with all of them as well. The only nice part was getting to see my nieces and nephew and getting to hang out with Stephanie, whom I LOVE.

She and I went to the farmers market and there was a cat rescue organization there so I took photos and sent them to Primo and suggested that perhaps the cats could go to the rescue place, along with a nice donation from the estate.

If you have pets, please figure out what should happen to them if you and anyone you live with should all die at once. Don't make the executor have to send them to a shelter and don't make the executor have to be super stressed about rehoming elderly pets. It is not fair to your executor and it is really not fair to your pets.


2 comments:

  1. Ohh, the little orange one in the second pic looks just like one of our boys (who has grown into a giant ginger monster - he weights 8.5kgs). I'm currently fostering two very sweet kittens who he hates with a passion. It's like running a zoo with dangerous animals at our place right now as I always have to be aware which doors in the house are open or closed. The kittens are crated when I'm not around to supervise playtime but given half a chance he gets into their room and hisses at them, terrifying the poor wee things.

    Prior to adopting our two ginger boys (who are foster fails from my only other attempt at fostering kittens), I had a much loved, but rather grumpy tiny little long-haired black and white girl. All my friends used to joke about who wasn't getting her in my will as she'd scratched and/or hissed at each and every one of them.

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