Remember back when Marcy came to live with us? She was delivered to me, as a foster kid (oh, the irony), in a live trap. While it was believed she was only a couple of months old, she turned out to be at least 8 months.
Given she hasn’t grown a bit, other than her sense of entitlement, I think it safe to assume she was at least a year old.
A year old, having grown up wild, without human intervention. In other words, feral like a coyote. At the time, we didn’t think she could be domesticated.
It seems like just yesterday, but it’s actually been 2 years, this month. Golly time flies!
Marcy has come a long way since she was trapped. She still has feral tendencies and is easily scared around ‘outsiders’, but I can honestly say she, more than any of the other kids, except for maybe Pablo, wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but Run A Muck Ranch. If Crabby and I were hit by a truck and the kids had to find other homes, the rest, they’d be OK. Heck, Slugger wouldn’t even notice the change! Marcy wouldn’t be able to cope. That’s not pride on my part talking, it’s reality.
It isn’t one thing about The Ranch that Marcy loves, it’s the sum of all the parts. She would be fine without me, or Morty, or the Waggin’ Wagon, or her coyote beau who comes to visit her, or anything else, assuming only one part was missing. But take away a few things, and Marcy would be significantly damaged.
This was her home since before she was born, it just took a while to for her to get here. Sometimes, when I watch Marcy loving her life I wonder if everything in our lives up to February 2013 happened just to prepare for Marcy’s homecoming.
We love you Marcy, even if you did eat a pretty large chunk of the salad that I painstakingly prepared for my dinner tonight.
Thanks again to the folks at Pittie Me Rescue for doing what you do, and making it possible that Marcy could come home, even if I still believe someone did some serious Voodoo conjuring to make us put ourselves in the position to agree to ‘foster’ her.