Fostering is not for the feint of heart.

The teenager and I applied to be foster parents for feral kittens through Feline Urban Rescue and Rehab at the end of July.

We received our first litter July 31— a little faster than we expected. That litter was about 3 months old (the same age as our newest litter) and consisted of 5 spunky but sickly kittens. By August 2, I was in the hospital for a cat bite.

Trial by fire, I guess.

There was only one all black kitten in that litter of tabbies. Two were lovely silver tigers. Two were brown tabbies with lots of white.

Since we wanted to name them after Greek Gods, we quickly decided the black one, regardless of gender, would be Hades.

Hades had bad eye infections and bit me, piercing me with one tooth, while I was trying to give her meds. It was my first time in nearly a decade scruffing a kitten. I’m used to scruffing my 15 lb adult cats.

Hades never trusted people. She would never let me closer than 2 feet away. Yet, if I sat still she would come up to about 18 inches away from me and cock her head inquisitively.

Sometimes she slept in the top bunk with the other kittens, but most of the time she hid in the corner.

And then she got ringworm. We crated her to try and give her meds. She would not let us. And every day she got more aggressive.

So we talked to our FURR foster godmother. Together the three of us decided it was time to transition Hades to a barn cat.

Today we transferred Hades to godmother’s house where she will have her ringworm treated and continue the process to become a barn cat.

We all hope the open space is what she needs to be happy.

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