My Blanken World

My world of boys, textiles and moving.

Cat got your home July 22, 2019

Filed under: Animals,Moving,Pets — blankenmom @ 11:27 pm
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This is “the black cat”.  Any cat that comes on our property gets fixed now.  After a litter of kittens were born in our bushes, we weren’t going through that chaos again.  So far this year we’ve fixed 9 cats.  Including this guy.

Handsome fellow!

We got him fixed a month ago and he was very not pleased.  He actually escaped the very large kennel we had him in for recovery.  That had never happened before!  And off he went.  And we expected it to be like normal and we’d never see him again.  He’d be out in some field near by hunting mice for me like the rest of the feral’s.

Two weeks ago he came back.  Skin and bones, with a scar on his nose and begging for help.  I made sure he had food outside and figured that would be the end of it since he wasn’t friendly.

Apparently being mean goes out the window when you’re hungry.  He figured out how to get in our cat door, or meow out front until he got in.  My husband was not thrilled.

With four cats already, two more than we had planned on, and a move to a studio apartment over a dental office in our near future, a fifth cat wasn’t happening.  And frankly, I am ok with that.  However, I’m not willing to just chuck him out either.

 

We contacted our vet and got several rescue numbers, most of which didn’t want him because he was about a year old.  I appreciated their honesty on why they didn’t want him.  (People don’t want cats, they want kittens.  They don’t have room for cats that stay that long.)  One did say to come in so they could look him over.

I went in last Wednesday to a small building behind several others.  Hard to find, but once I saw the kennels I knew I was at the right place.  I walked up to the door to my “appointment” and realized there were about 15 other people in the tiny front room.  The woman inside yelled “Come in quickly!”  So I did.

I found a seat and placed the carrier on my lap.  For an hour I watched the large woman wheel around the room in her office chair going between sick, tiny kittens broken up by an adult cat or two.  She’d sit at her desk, pulling them out of their kennels one-by-one to inspect eyes, noses, and ears.  Often giving medications to the ones they decided to keep.  Others were sent home to wait for pick up the next week.

Between each feline check, she would spray herself down with Lysol, filling the room with a thick fog.  Since I had never used Lysol, I hadn’t realized I was not compatible with the product.  As my throat swelled up, lungs started burning and voice started leaving, I wondered if I should sit out on the hot porch while I waited?

One woman announced to the room that she couldn’t make it the week before because she had a mental breakdown and couldn’t make it.  Fair enough.  Not something I was prepared for in this setting however.  They went on for about 20 minutes between talking about her breakdown and discussing how amazing the cat’s eyes were.  It was decided that he’d be on the next transport to the closest rescue.

A few more people later, and we were down to myself and another woman who was very pleased with herself and her abilities as a rescuer.  “I’ll go last.  I think we have a lot to talk about.” she declared to the person checking the animals.

“I guess it’s your turn.” the rescue worker said as she pointed to my kennel.  I moved the kennel to the desk and set it down.  Without even opening the door, she shined a light on him and said “I won’t even take this cat out.  He’s got ringworm.  Highly contagious.  It takes weeks to see if he actually has it, and weeks to cure it.  Take him to a vet and bring him back once it’s treated.”  I was a bit shocked, but that’s their rule.

I went home and made the appointment with our vet.  A few days later, he was in the kennel again headed to the vet.  He was loved on by all the workers because he really is pretty awesome.  The vet got out his light, and checked the scar in question, which was nearly gone by this point.  He went over the crusty nose issue with the light, and a swab.  Nothing showed up.  The vet was stumped.  “I don’t know what she saw?  There isn’t anything now?  I mean, maybe?  Could be?  It’s possible?” he stood there looking at the handsome cat in front of him.

“Ok, lets do it this way.  I need this cat to be adopted.  Would it hurt him if we just gave him the meds for just-in-case?”  He looked at me not expecting this response.  “Well, no?  And it would probably clear up the crusty nose issue?  It’s probably just some sort of cat cold he picked up in the wild, so I can give you the meds and it should clear everything up?”

“Excellent – lets get it going!”

I walked out with a healthy cat, but toting meds.  For someone who rarely uses medication, this was new for us.

I waited over the weekend, frustrated at the situation, and listening to a grouchy dentist man.

Today I posted him one last time on our local FB page.

I am happy to say, there are at least seven people asking to look at this handsome boy!  And one crazy man who keeps asking why I didn’t use that particular rescue.  There always has to be a crazy one.

Definitely a new experience for us, but he’ll be going to a fantastic home by this weekend.

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