A Day in the Life of a Foster Mom
It’s 5:30 in the morning. I drag myself out of bed and stumble into the kitchen, catching my foot on Trixie’s gate. The routine I follow this morning can be done in my sleep. Good thing. I get the bucket of rabbit food from the counter and grab the water jug and head out of the kitchen to make my rounds, bumping my foot again on the top of Trixie’s gate, then return to the kitchen again (Bump!); I neglected to turn the coffee pot on. “Why am I doing this?”, I ask myself as I stumble through the living room and into the back bedroom with food and water in tow. I bang my foot on the top of the gate as I enter the room. Shelby and Charlie race me to their open cage (they always win) and hang their heads over their empty food bowl waiting for me (Will you paleeese hurry up!) to fill it. In their excitement they bump the measuring cup in my hand and food flies all over the place. I make a mental note to clean it up later. I stumble out of their room hitting my foot on the top of their gate and head for Cinge’s open enclosure. Cinge races to his bowl (he always beats me) and hangs his head over the bowl just as I pour the pellets. In his enthusiasm he doesn’t notice, or just doesn’t care, he is wearing some of his breakfast on his head. The smell of freshly brewed coffee entices my taste buds but Suki is waiting patiently in her open cage to be fed. As I step over her cage into her running area I scrape my calf on the corner of her cage. A small amount of blood appears in the same place it did yesterday and the day before that, and the days before that. “Why am I doing this?”, I ask myself again. On the way out of her area I step over her cage and scrape my other calf. Now I have two wounds; I guess to keep each other company. On my way into CC and Gizmo’s room I bang my foot on the top of their gate. As I feed and water them I notice someone has pulled the hay out of one of the litterboxes and spread it on the floor. “I’ll clean it up later”, I mumble as I lift my leg (Bang!) over their gate and head back towards the kitchen. Back in Trixie’s area (Bang!) I glance lovingly at the coffee pot but my work isn’t done yet.
I stumble down the steps to a different level of the house and Fiona runs up the stairs to greet me. If I’m not extra careful she’ll get between my feet and trip me. Today I’m not extra careful and my gymnastic lessons come in handy, once again. At the bottom of the stairs Henry is doing whirly-birds. They race me to their open cage (they always win) and wait for their breakfast. As I feed and water them I notice someone has been digging in their litterbox. There are wood pellets and droppings scattered everywhere. I make a mental note to clean it up later. On to Dallas and Davis’ enclosure. I climb over their gate (Bang!) and they race me to their open cage. It’s a no brainer who wins the race. As I bend down to feed them Dallas grabs the measuring cup full of food and runs away with it. Davis takes off like a rocket after her. Around the room they run until Davis grabs the cup from Dallas, spilling their food everywhere. I stumble over to them and pick up the empty cup. On my way out I notice someone had pickup up the large litterbox and turned it upside down. I make another mental note. “One more stop and I’m done”, I say to myself, as I open the door to Mrs. Bigglesworth’s enclosure. I bend over to fit through her door. Bang! My head hits the top of the door frame. Mrs. B is as sleepy as I so it’s a turtle race to her dish. She wins, nonetheless. “Done!”, I think to myself as I (Bang!) leave through her door. I stumble back up the stairs, taste buds aching at the smell of freshly brewed coffee. I carry my full coffee cup out of the kitchen and spill half of it when I bang my foot on Trixie’s gate. (Mental note made.) As I sit quietly sipping my coffee I wonder “why I do this”, a smile comes across my face.
I do this because Shelby begs to be petted, as shy Charlie looks sheepishly at me from under the bed. I do this because Cinge comes when he’s called, loves to race around the living room and has enough style to sit in the one chair that compliments his color fur. Because Suki waits patiently for me to step out of the shower then circles my feet begging to be petted. Because CC insists on washing my feet while I try to get dressed, while Gizmo tries to look up phone numbers in the yellow pages. I do it because Fiona always runs to greet me while Henry hides and waits to ambush me. Because Dallas and Darma throw themselves at me when I enter their room. And because gentle Mrs B is starting to get muscle tone in her legs after being confined for 4 years in a cage too small for her Flemish Giant body. I do it because I can’t tolerate the thought that these wonderful creatures in my foster care wouldn’t be alive today without foster parents. I do it because of the precious reports I receive from their adoptive families. I do it because house rabbits have burrowed into my heart and because I can’t imagine my life without them. Most of all, I do it because an unwanted, often-abused rabbit sitting in his own feces in a cage too small, without toys, attention, love and exercise, can be given a second chance at a happy, healthy life in a loving adoptive home.
by Cherryl Reinhardt