Yesterday Monica’s favorite cat passed away. Foster was only 4 years old or so, but he had a congenital heart defect and we knew he wouldn’t live to be an old cat. Monica raised him from a 10-day old, feeding him from a bottle.
As most people who would be reading this know, Monica fosters cats until they can be adopted, and of course that’s how we first got a hold of Foster the Kitten. He was a spectacularly bad kitten. Needy, loud, curious to a fault, and totally fearless. After a very short time I knew Monica would never allow him to be adopted by anyone else.
Here are a couple of pictures of Foster shortly after he came to our house, one with Chico (before he was such a giant), and one with my mother who was visiting at the time.
We will always have what will now be fond memories of Foster. Like waking up at 4am to feed him as a kitten. Like kicking him off of my feet all night. Like the time we bought a brand new Christmas tree with the lights built in. We had that tree setup for about 20 minutes before he climbed deep into the middle of it and chewed a wire apart. It took me all day to fix it, and years later it’s still held together with electrical tape.
Monica also has Foster’s mother here now, her name is Marmie. Below is recent picture of the two of them together.