Ah, the joys of fostering kittens ... watching little fur balls climbing your curtains,having them create an obstacle course between you and your destination, the idea that you are a jungle gym for their physical activity. Just a poem about the four legged fiends (no typo, friends they may be but fiends they DEFINITELY are!).

It may sound odd to some
but there are kittens running down the hall,
furry bundles of soft fur with
needle sharp fangs and claws.
Needle sharp fangs and claws
waiting to pounce on unsuspecting ankles and toes,
to try to climb legs,
as though they were mere playthings.
Ah, foolish human that I am,
to them, I AM a mere plaything.
That, and slave.
I am there solely to provide for them,
be it food, fresh water or entertainment.
Nothing is sacred,
all are enemies to be valiantly fought,
or things to amuse oneself with.
There is gentle pleasure in watching their antics,
and satisfaction in watching them blossom,
then, sadly but with love,
I offer them to their new families
and watch them leave me forever
yet know they are the lucky ones.
Many kittens will never find homes
or be loved,
but will roam streets risking death
and trying not to starve.
Which is why I foster these kittens and
then give them over with love,
that my job is ended ...
until another litter arrives,
needing safety, love and nurturing,
and the process starts all over again.