It seems that one of the things that hits everyone right in the heart is pets. Whether you're cat or dog person, or maybe you're one of those people with gerbils. Either way; if you put in the movie "My Dog Skip" on I bet you'll cry harder and sooner than if you were to watch "Forest Gump". I have a few close friends that are foster parents at their local shelters, and a few that truly love animals to the extent of being a hard core, kick-your-ass-for-eating-that-hamburger vegan. However, this article is about a more specific animal, one named Nugget.

First off, I have no experience fostering animals. I have three pets of my own; a goldfish named Toothless, a siamese rescue named O'Malley, and a Great Pyrenees/ Newfoundland rescue named Sadie. I love my pets with all of my heart, just as I do all animals. I'm the type person that can't go into a shelter or adoption event without bawling my eyes out and my fiance having to logically explain why we can't bring one home.

A few weeks ago a few of my sorority sisters decided to take in a litter of abandoned kittens. These little guys were only three weeks old and needed a lot of attention. The runt of the litter was already weak, and when you looked in his eyes you could see he wasn't feeling well. However, he was a fighter. Fast forward less than 24 hours it's now Thursday, my sorority sister who has taken in the runt is at her wits end. He's refusing to eat, wont move, and is pathetic as anything. Hearing the story, I decide that I can take care of him. I could save him. I have the time, patience, and stubbornness. So it's decided. When I go to retrieve the little one, my heart breaks. He's laying on his tummy with his legs flat out barely meowing in protest when picked up. In a panic I call the vet, and we proceed take him in to the person that tends to my own animals.

At the vet we get bad news. The little guy's temperature is too low to be read on the thermometer, he has enlarged kidneys, and he's pale. The outcome she says is not looking good. I gather the stuff sent home with me from the vet and christen the little one, Nugget. As we look at each other I think we were both silently agreeing to the war to come.

For the next few days Nugget and I wake up every three hours on the dot to feed and cuddle. His temp rises to a good 101 degrees, though being fed with a syringe he still manages to eat, and he toughens out his three shots a day of fluid to make sure of to prevent dehydration.

As we continue on the schedule, he cuddles and plays with Sadie, the large dog. Who has taken quite a liking to the little runt. He suckles and kneads when cuddled up on my lap. Even small amounts of purrs come through as he is buried in warmth and love.

By now it is Monday, I've made it up in my head that Nugget will survive. That he's fighting. That he is going to make it. I've even set up a home for him when he reaches the proper age. Fast forward three hours.

By the time I come home from classes, I have come to a different conclusion. Nugget isn't going to make it through the day. His temperature has dropped dramatically. His pulse has dropped and his breathing has become rapid. The vomit and diarrhea has gotten to the stage of extreme. I call the vet, and she sadly tells me that it's time. In between tears I agree to bring him in for euthanasia. Within the hour, little Nugget is no longer struggling to live.

My journey of being a foster mom was short, but it was powerful. I held on to the idea that I could save Nugget up to the very moment he was in the hands of the technician that would end his life. I am humbled that I had the few days that I did with him and that I was able to show him the love that all animals deserve. I have a renewed respect for fosters now, and I hope you remember to adopt from your local shelter when looking for an animal to love unconditionally.