There's many movements and causes in Humboldt that happen each and every day; some are well known, others not as much but I'm sure many of you know of the SPCA's Foster for the Holidays program that happens at Christmas time every year.
Anyone who knows me or my fiancé is well aware that we're die-hard, googly-eyed animal lovers; I've always said the best parts of my week are Sunday nights when we supervise at the local shelter and I get to take care of the cats while Braedon and other volunteers trudge through fifty below zero weather walking the dogs (and yet the fuzzy little canines seem to be immune to the cold, as they dash happily through the snow, rolling in it, licking it, sniffing it, pawing at it).
I'd never been part of a holiday foster program before but I'd definitely do it again (I'd just buy an extra box of Kleenex for the tears that are shed when you return the pet, if you're unable to keep it permanently). It's a wonderful, inspiring incentive to give an animal, many of whom have never felt the warmth of a loving home or the constant affection of an owner, two weeks in bliss during the holidays.
So, naturally, we jumped at the opportunity.
I wasn't sure which cat (we couldn't foster a dog, as our house is too small and our rambunctious dog Elvis would probably send the poor thing into cardiac arrest) we'd pick, as we let Wanda know that whichever cat she felt needed a home the most, we'd take it.
Luckily, the options were few and far between, as you, Humboldt residents, stepped up to the plate and having a heart like mine, welcomed one of the SPCA's animals into your house with open arms.
In fact, three-quarters of the cats were fostered out and ALL the dogs.
So I didn't know which cat would be gracing us with his presence but Braedon surprised me when he brought home the carrier and out sauntered one of my favourite cats at the shelter, who we've affectionately dubbed "Old Man". We were there when Old Man and the rest of his siblings were born in July and since then, we always noticed how wise he looked, with his black mask like a robber over his eyes, long fur and quizzical eyes.
So, the Old Man name stuck. And for two weeks (and two days) over the holiday break, we got to enjoy Old Man's antics.
Old Man batting down Christmas ornaments off the tree, consistently, energetically and of course, unapologetically.
Old Man cuddling and wrestling with our dog, Elvis, who is a giant buffoon, a benevolent soul but has no idea how big he is because he always whacks our cats in a playful gesture, leaving them disgruntled and un-amused. Elvis is always baffled.
Old Man stealing plastic grocery bags out of our pantry and running off with them, balled up in his mouth and bigger than the size of his head.
Old Man cuddling with us, rubbing up on us, sleeping next to us and just embracing what a marvelous time he was having at our place.
So, of course I blubbered like a baby the whole way to the SPCA when we had to take him back after the Foster for the Holidays period was over. There's always the option to keep the pet permanently but Braedon, the realistic, pragmatic soul he is, put his foot down and told me absolutely not could we have yet another cat.
So it was with a heavy heart we brought him back and I expected him to sit in the room, looking longingly at me with sad eyes and letting out a melancholic, soft meow every few seconds.
But nope, he went right back in to play with his former buddies and fill them in on all the great stories of the "outside world."
As hard as it was to bring him back, I know he'll soon be adopted and that he's definitely lucky in that regard, as there's so many strays who will never know that fate.
What I'd give to have a magic wand.
CM
