Angel

It's been six months since Bandit was scheduled to be put down. 

It hasn't been an easy transition. 

Taking in a chronically ill animal is never something I sought out to do, but the situation fell into my hands.  Caring for him has been quite the challenge. I have had to learn the ins and outs of feline diabetes in a rather short amount of time.  I've read, and researched, and asked questions.  I've joined forums and made friends with other crazy cat ladies across the country that have taken me under their wing. They give advice, and pointers and best practices when it comes to caring for my Sugar Baby (that's the term of endearment for  diabetic kitties).  It's been a long, bumpy, stressful road and Bandit is finally feeling better.

It's taken quite a toll on my sanity. 

It's hard to tell people that I have a diabetic kitty at home that requires two shots of insulin a day. They usually give me some sort of "b*tch, you must be crazy" look accompanied by one of the following phrases:

"Are you serious?"

"It's a cat? With diabetes?"

"You're crazy!"

Maybe I am crazy.  Maybe I'm wasting my time and energy.

But then I realize - I'm not crazy. I'm not wasting my time or energy.  This is me. This is what I love to do. Would life be easier if Bandit wasn't in our lives? Of course, but it's also so awesome that he is here.  Brian and I absolutely love this little freak of nature - pain in the arse kitty.   Now that his diabetes is more or less under control, we are actually enjoying our third kitty.  He sleeps between us every night, and I wake up every morning with a purring fur ball snuggled into my belly.

He's only been in our household for six months but I can't remember what it was like before he was here. 

I love the little furball.

Brian predicted early on that "fostering" Bandit meant that Bandit would never be leaving.

I believe his words were, "You know that no one will care for him like you care for him. He is here to stay."

Boy, I hate to admit it when my husband is right.