This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Kutztown chapter.

This week started off normal, with my usual work schedule of Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday. In addition to work, I also had a pile of school work about a mile high, which I procrastinated doing for many, many hours. But then I got a phone call.

“There’s one kitten left,” my boyfriend’s grandpa had said to me. “The mother never came back for her,” he added.

That was it. I knew I had to get this kitten home with me some way or another. So, I started making a few calls, one to my boyfriend and one to my mother. I asked my boyfriend if he was alright with me picking up the kitten. Once he gave me the “okay,” I was in the car and on my way to her in no time. The original plan was for me and my boyfriend to foster her until she was able to eat and play on her own, then she would be my mother’s. But, when I finally got to her, I noticed we were weeks from being able to rehome her.

Poppy, the little kitten we picked up and named, was only about a week and a half old. Her eyes were small and unopened, and her body was weak and fragile. I knew I had to help her because her tiny screams said so. My boyfriend’s family was attempting to feed her with a human baby bottle (which didn’t work out in the end). Poppy was hungry and cold after being left in the small bushel of leaves where her mother and siblings were last seen.

I picked up her small, black body and tucked her into the blanket I brought with me and we were off to her new start in life, after I picked up a few necessities from the pet store. The first place I stopped at was Rite Aid. There, the employees surprised me by giving me a free syringe so I could feed Poppy. It’s refreshing to know there’s still a bit of kindness left in the world.

Once we got her home and snuggled, she ate to her heart’s content and slept for hours. She woke up early, around 4 a.m.,and I was at her side instantly, waiting to give her all the love and snuggles she lacked and very much deserved. The first night was long and morning seemed to come slow, butI was very happy to be by her side at every moment she needed.

It wasn’t until a few days ago that I realized I might be falling for her little baby blue eyes. This is what is called a “failed foster,” but for good reason. Bailey has a new home here with us and I am so happy I found my small, stinky, four-legged baby girl. She’s going to make an excellent addition to the family.

A Failed Foster

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