Things often don’t turn out as one expects. Which kitten in a litter is best, for example. Who’s going to run the Hancock County Animal Shelter, for another.

Of the three kittens my wife Honey fostered, the one we least expected to keep was the one we nicknamed “Leo the Load” because he seemed such a slug.

When the Hancock County Commission announced it would entertain proposals for an outside vendor to operate the animal shelter, I was sure the fix was in for a dreadful sequel, a movie titled “The Return of The Foundation.”

To my surprise The Foundation didn’t apply for the contract. The Jefferson County (Ohio) Humane Society got it. Huh.

The kittens are now eight weeks of age. We all were surprised that Leo the Load is on track to become The Chosen One. With his lion-tawny fur he was always the prettiest, but now appears the smartest, most lovable, highest achiever, most obedient. (We are keeping all three kittens, of course. My wife still says she never expected to, but everyone else knew better.)

The nonprofit which I refer to here simply as The Foundation operated our animal shelter for a number of years until mid-2016. When the existing contract expired, the commissioners, tired of complaints about the shelter and then getting the run-around from the Foundation when they tried to address issues, presented a redrawn contract. They knew it would be unacceptable because of the controls and accountability it imposed, but the poison pill was mandating moderate use of euthanasia to control populations if necessary. The Foundation’s philosophy was 100 percent no-kill. Officers and members of the nonprofit were nasty, fighting tooth and claw for months against the commission’s decision.

This time it didn’t even put in an offer. It had two shots to do so because the commission asked for a second round of proposals.

The animal shelter is adjacent to our family farm in Gas Valley. We have long been neighbors on good terms except for the final years of The Foundation’s operation. When the shelter was not open, or people were turned away because it was full, which happened frequently, they sometimes would drive a little further and toss their unwanted cats or dogs out of the car near our barn. Those we could catch we took to the shelter, which half the time refused to take them.

My late brother-in-law, retired Army Gen. “Doc” Bahnsen, did not react well one day when trying to take in a stray.

He was told, “We don’t have room. We’ll give you a cage and food and call you when we have room for your cat.”

“It’s not my cat,” Doc said. “It’s a stray.”

“We have no room,” the shelter employee repeated.

After a brief argument, Doc said, “No problem. I have a pistol in my truck.”

Suddenly the shelter had room.

Nine years ago, when the kerfuffle over non-renewal of the shelter contract was playing out in the newspapers, I read about how Foundation supporters attacked, besmirched and insulted commissioners at every public meeting. I began attending and spoke in support of the commission. Foundation supporters booed, insulted and heckled me.

Since then the shelter has been operated directly by the county. When seeking an outside vendor was proposed recently I was prepared to go back to the commissioners to plead that The Foundation not be brought back. Then, poof, no need to.

I have been informed that a shelter can call itself “no-kill” if it euthanizes no more than three percent of its population. The number seems arbitrary, but it’s something. Animals that are unadoptable for various reasons should not be kept in cages indefinitely, shuffled among volunteers or warehoused in empty buildings. That is animal cruelty.

I wish the Jefferson County Humane Society well as it takes over our shelter. I hope its experience and ability as a nonprofit to obtain grant funding proves out. I’m especially glad existing employees can remain. They are good folks.

They keep asking Honey if she would foster another litter of kittens. She has had the good sense to say “No, no, no.” Five cats in our house is more than enough.