The first rule of blogging about fostering

Welcome to Fight Club. The first rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club.
-Fight Club

It doesn't make sense. It isn't even good grammar. What the hell does it mean to disappear somebody?
-Catch-22

Sorry I've been gone so long. While blogging about fostering is a fantastic idea--if I do say so myself--I'm finding it tough to do both. Fostering Jack meant petting him endlessly, which state made it hard to type. Then the shelter really wanted us to take Cinnamon too, and a foster couple was found who expressly wanted to take in a senior. So Jack was passed off to them and Cinnamon came in and kicked my ass. Bella's too. She was wonderful but indefatiguable (Bella and I: fatiguable) and I had zero time to type. I'll tell you more about her sometime...

When she found her forever home, I went on vacation. I'll tell you about that too...

Then I came home, rested and ready to rest some more. I wanted to hang out, calmly, with Bella, and to work on my apartment, which lay somewhere under a thick layer of bones and dog toys.

So I told the rescue group I needed a break. That lasted two weeks.

Then Christmas came and fosters wanted to go home to their families and I got the call. Which is why Ellie Mae is chewing my slipper with a vengeance, and dancing with it, in the center of my living room. Now she's trying to lift her dinner bowl off the floor--no, it's back to the slipper dance--wait, she's managed to flip the bowl up, hitting herself in the head. She's taking this as a sign it's time to fling the duck toy around the room. Now the porcupine. Now the lion's head. And back to the slipper.

Yeah, a break.