I was intentional about our last week together. The things that had become ordinary — the chaotic meal times, the busy board play, Ash at the bottom of the stairs making his case, Locket on my shoulder while I worked — I tried to see them clearly again, the way you see something you know you’re about to lose. Dot stealing a chair and waiting with triumphant patience. Marigold charging the length of the room for no particular reason. Velvet sitting at my feet, crying once, waiting with the certainty of someone who has never once doubted the outcome. The last slow weekend morning, when the sun came up gold and everyone settled into a long warm pile, I let it last as long as it wanted to. I didn’t move. Nobody did.
Then drop-off day came.
The shelter welcomed eleven kittens that morning — the Rumpelstiltskin six alongside the Hawaiian litter, five kittens fostered with their mother by a wonderful couple in Pinedale. Four females, one male, roughly the same age as my six. Where the Rumpel litter came into the world sideways — abandoned, too young, a text message and a scramble to intervene — the Hawaiian five had known warmth and a mother and a stable home from the beginning. Different stories. Same room. Same destination.
Two volunteers were on hand when we arrived, and what happened next is something every prospective foster in Sublette County should hear: they included me. I held every single one of my six while they received their first vaccinations and their very first nail trim — eight weeks old, give or take, and not remotely pleased about the clippers. But they were held by hands they knew. That mattered to me. I believe it mattered to them.
After the medical formalities, the volunteers encouraged me to stay and help them explore. Dot discovered a window perch and claimed it instantly. Marigold needed approximately four seconds to approve a new climbing tree. Miller found his person almost immediately, positioning himself in one volunteer’s orbit with the focused intention of a kitten who has done his research. Dot followed another volunteer relentlessly around the room. I had not told anyone that Dot likes to ride shoulders. She told them herself.
The Hawaiian litter kept to themselves at first. The Rumpel six kept to themselves. Two groups, same room, each pretending not to notice the other with the studied nonchalance of cats who are absolutely paying attention. This lasted perhaps thirty-six hours. That evening, my foster coordinator sent me a picture she did not have to send: eleven kittens, completely flat, piled in heaps after the extraordinary effort of a first day. The Rumpel six together, the Hawaiian five nearby, borders still visible. A few days later she sent another. I had to look twice to find where one litter ended and the other began, because the borders were gone. Hawaiian tucked against Golden, Enchanted draped over both. A sundae of kittens, layered and inseparable, fast friends.
I visited every other day that first week. My six would check in when I arrived — a lap visit, a quick hello — before rushing back to whatever they’d been doing, which is exactly right. That is what you work toward as a foster: the moment they don’t need you the way they used to. It does not feel as triumphant as you might expect. It feels like both things at once, and you sit with that, and you go home.
Velvet was ready before I was. She walked into that shelter the way she walks into every room — with a waddle and an absolute certainty that everything is going to be fine. She has an older sister waiting in her forever home. She was right to be certain. She usually is.
Ash and Locket are still with me, finishing out their foster time at The Cat Ranch. The house is quieter. My own cats collectively exhaled the day the six left. Ash and Locket simply took it in stride. But that is a story for next week. For now: the Rumpelstiltskin litter is at Happy Endings in Pinedale, and they are ready to meet you. Come see them. There is room in that sundae for one more — the person who takes one of them home.
Next week: The Last Chapter
