I had only been volunteering at the shelter for a few weeks when they had a sudden overload of cats and kittens they needed to get out of the shelter, and into foster homes for a few weeks. I hadn't had a chance to go through the requisite foster home training since it wasn't scheduled until later that fall, but they asked if I would be willing to take a couple of kittens. I was thrilled; feeling a big hole since my twenty year old cat had finally been euthanized about two months prior with severe kidney failure, and plain-old old age.
This is probably a good time to note that the shelter does the naming for the kitties at time of intake. Usually. Sometimes it is just "mom cat + 6 kittens" initially, or "2 ferally kittens", meaning the foster home doesn't always have a 'named' cat or kittens. Often I still don't have names for my fosters even when I take them in for the last time for their spay/neuter and eventual adoption. Of course, it doesn't really matter to me; I have no shortage of terms of endearment and/or descriptions for them, anyway!
So, these were my first fosters; I think they were from a hoarding situation. They were supposedly living by the railroad tracks and eating slugs...and no idea who the mother was, or if they had other siblings; I think they were about ten weeks old when I got them, and had both been neutered already. They were somewhat 'ferally'; Giles, the polydactyl black kitten more so than his grey brother, Ozzie.
OZ (Ozzie) was the more social, and a real character...
They were both adopted together by a close friend who conveniently (!) happened to be looking to adopt their first kittens....
