Arthur

Arthur's story is a strange one, but considering the human he ended up with, that's not so surprising.  It's a rather adult story, at least PG-13 if not R, for violence and language.

It was going to be simple.  And of course it did not turn out that way.

As I was walking down the street, a guy in a truck grabbed my attention verbally.  He told me he was the brother of a woman who had lived across the street from me.  This woman was, in cat-lovers parlance, an "idjit".  She had a cat that she allowed to get pregnant; and then she allowed the daughter cat to get pregnant.  She kept one white cat from the second and third generations, and I do not want to know what happened to the rest.

I went over one night, and tried to talk to her about low-cost spay and neuter, low-cost vaccinations, and even gave her my brochure that had some basic cat care information and phone numbers for these things.  But if you've ever tried to talk to a brick wall, you know what it was like attempting to explain to her the urgency of getting her cats spayed.

It was almost funny in retrospective how I accidentally kidnapped one of the white cats.  I do rescue on occasion (one cat, two cats, three cats, four . . . oh, never mind.  Some of them actually do go to shelters and such), and had seen a little white kitten out and about that I had no idea where it belonged, and assumed it belonged nowhere.  Being the quasi-apartment manager at the time, with an empty apartment, it was easy to put up the little girl in her own digs (checking on her frequently, of course) until I could get her into a shelter.

However, our Animal-Abusing Neighbor #1 was on the other side of Rescue Kitten, and heard her.  She knew that she came from across the street, and promptly went over to tell Spider (yes, that was his name), the father of the idjit who owned the cats, that I had kidnapped the kitten.  Or something like then.  She then knocked on our door and just pointed across the street at Spider (given that she was not speaking to me at the time, after I called the Humane Society on her).  Richard went over to talk to Spider, and it turned out that the kitten was the white cat's kitten, and they wanted her back.

There was nothing I could do but return her.  They weren't being abusive, as far as I could tell; just neglectful and guilty of general idiocy.

But her brother (remember her brother?  There's a paragraph about her brother some ways back . . . ) apparently remembered this, and told me that the grandma kitty had given birth to two kittens, and would I be interested in taking them?  I explained to him that I could not keep them, having seven cats already (okay, stop laughing.  I mean it.).  I said I'd take them and get them into a shelter.  He agreed to bring them over when they were old enough.

The night he decided to bring them over happened to be my birthday.  Richard was working, and my rather pathetic birthday was to rent a couple of videos and have some beer.  Which is what I was doing when I heard voices on the porch next door, and a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach told me something in this deal had gone terribly wrong.

Animal-Abusing Neighbor #2 lived on the other side of me.  And we are not talking people who forgot to get their dogs' vaccinated.  We are talking cited for, arrested for, and convicted of animal abuse and neglect.  These people were the most horrible neighbors I have ever had the displeasure to know.  They abused their children, each other, and the thought of them having any animals was enough to make me sick.

I went outside.  The idjit brother had been bringing the kittens, when he was intercepted by the idjit Animal-Abusing Family #2, who promptly told him they would take the kittens.

Over my dead body.  And it nearly was.   
  
I promptly told them that they were not allowed to have animals under their lease.  This was technically true, as the lease said "no pets", unless provision was written into the lease.  Idjit brother walked off, throwing up his hands and saying "You work it out."  I could have kicked him.

I firmly told the Animal-Abusing Family #2 that they were not allowed to have the kittens, and that I was taking them.  I took both kittens, and went back into my apartment.

Do you know what it's like to feel besieged?  I can tell you.  Animal-Abusing Neighbor #1 joined forces with Animal-Abusing Family #2.  They were at my front door AND my back door, screaming obscenities in at me through the screen door.  In the meanwhile, their children were crying on the porch next door, as they watched their parents act like children.  It got to the point that I was truly afraid for my life.

I called the landlord, not knowing what else to do.  I had Arthur on my left shoulder, and Morganna, his sister, on my right shoulder.  I couldn't let them down, and I was in the middle of a crisis, so it was the only thing I could think of to do. And calling the landlord was the only thing I could think of to do.

He empathized, but suggested I give them back the little black girl cat, which is the one they really wanted.  I would never have done that, except that he said "Ginger-lyn, you know you are going to end up with her anyway."  And I realized he was right.  And he pointed out it probably wouldn't be long before I had her, too.

I hated the idea of her even being near those people, but I had to do something before the situation turned more violent.  And I knew my landlord was right.  So I went back out, told them I had talked to the landlord and they were allowed to keep the one kitten, but not both.  The situation settled down, and I went back inside, shaking for hours, getting Arthur set up in the Cat Rescue Room, and giving up on watching the rest of "Big Fish" until the next day.  Happy Birthday to me, eh?

Well, Arthur turned out to be a beautiful, perfect birthday gift.  The heck with the awful neighbors; I got an Arthur on my birthday, and that made up for the rest (almost).

The rest of the story is crazier than the beginning.  To try to make a very long story short, Animal Abusing Wife #2 threatened to kill Animal Abusing Husband #2, prompting the husband to call the police.  Oops -- he should have thought about that first.  His brother was staying with them.  There was not enough legal room and separation of rooms for the children.  There was no food in the house to feed the children (or Morganna, I am sure).

While all this craziness was going on, Morganna got out and headed for my porch (but of course).  I fed her, and then quietly picked her up and brought her inside.

Given the volatility of the earlier situation, I needed to find a home for her fast.  If the animal abuser asked, I wanted to be able to honestly tell him I had no idea where she was.  I couldn't do that if I couldn't find a home for her.  Somehow, I got connected up with some woman in rescue, who took the whole situation out of my hands, much to me frustration.  I wanted to do this right, with a questionnaire, signed agreement, etc.  But sadly, I allowed myself to lose control over the situation, and Morganna was adopted, renamed Tallulah, and declawed.

I kicked myself a lot over that situation.  It broke my heart.  I will never, ever lose control of such a situation again.  It will be done MY way, which is to say, the proper way.

The Awful Animal-Abusing Neighbors #2 were evicted.  They took revenge by kicking in the back door and taking everything they could, including unscrewing all the light bulbs!

And I now had Arthur, whom, of course, I decided to keep.  Seven is a good number right?  Or was it eight?

I don't know if it was the long shoulder ride that first night while on the phone to my landlord or not, but Arthur turned out to be a major shoulder kitty.  He adores jumping up on my left shoulder, and purring, licking my face, sitting proudly on my shoulder.  It would be a lot nicer experience for me if he would let me trim his claws, but maybe he got a telepathic message from his sister or something, as he becomes the wriggliest, slickest little thing I've ever seen when I try to trim his claws, so it is just impossible to do.  Sometimes I have a lot of scratches on my shoulder, but I'd hate to totally deny Arthur one of the things he loves most to do.

Spider, the idjit's dad, told Richard that Grandma cat (I call her that for several reasons, and you'll see why under "Kate and Jack ") was part Russian-Blue.  I was skeptical of that, although I only saw Grandma cat once, in the dark.  It was the coldest day of the year, she was pregnant with Arthur and Morganna, and she was standing on a sheet of ice, waiting for me to bring  out the fresh water and food for the strays.  I wanted to strangle the idjit that night.

At any rate, I am no longer so skeptical.  Whoopi Goldberg has a cat, and she was talking about her cat on "The View" one day.  Hers is Russian Blue, and she had found out that they are often referred to as "shoulder cats" because of their propensity for liking to sit on peoples' shoulders!  So I guess Arthur really is part Russian Blue.

Arthur is a terrible eater, and it worries me.  I tried to get him to eat more when he was young, but he won't touch canned food, and barely eats dry.  I think sometimes that Arthur is a Peter Pan cat, and just did not want to grow up.  So he stayed very small.  He's certainly not starving; he just chooses not to eat much and therefore be a small cat.

When I took the gang to the low-cost vaccination clinic at the pet store to get their shots, the doctor listened to all their lungs, and looked Arthur over carefully.  It was not good news.  He diagnosed Arthur with failure to thrive, and also believed he had asthma.  Without x-rays, he couldn't be sure about the asthma, so when I took Arthur in for the low-cost spay/neuter with the same doctor, I had him do the x-rays.  Sadly, they did show that he is asthmatic, and I'm assuming he was probably born that way.  So he and Internet get to take their asthma pills together.

One of Arthur's most amazing traits is that he likes to take pills.  Seriously.  I have never had a cat easier to pill than this little guy.  The vast majority of the time, he will come up to me as soon as I get the pill bottle out, and sit and wait for me to separate the pill into his half and Internet's half.  All I have to do is hold out the pill between my two fingers, and he open his mouth slightly, allowing me to just drop the pill onto his tongue.  He swallows, and that's that!  I wish every cat I ever had was that easy to pill!  His compatriot in pillage,  Internet , is one of the worst; I've had him spit out his pill more than half a dozen times before I get it down him -- by which time it's half dissolved and half on my hand, of course.  But Arthur is a dream where pills are concerned.

I managed to piss off the low-cost vet because of Arthur.  It was a silly thing, perhaps, but when you are a night person and get up at 6:00 am to bring a cat in for a neuter, worry about the cat, and stay up all day, you tend to be a little raw.  I wanted a prescription for the Prednisone, since the pharmacy would be cheaper.  He said he could write me a script, but would have to charge me $5 for the script -- thus negating the savings.  I went off.  Luckily, my mother-in-law was calm and reasonable and with me, so I calmed down and eventually just bought the pills from the vet.  The next round of vaccinations found things a bit strained between us, although I did apologize for going off like that.

Arthur has a few nicknames (not counting "You wonderful, wonderful cat!" when he takes his pills so easily):  Arturo, Arth, Art-Art, Arthy being the main ones.  Not very original, but there's not much you can do with Arthur, it being such a dignified name.

Arthur is very loving towards me, but his attitude towards other cats could use a little adjusting.  He has a little wild streak in him or something, that causes him on occasion to just go off on some of the other cats, usually trying to do the "death bite".  I think that started when he met Jack, so it may be Jack 's fault (but then, everything is Jack's fault; see Jack's page for that story); unfortunately, although Jack has pretty much stopped doing it, Arthur has not.

Arthur is a bit of a monkey cat when it comes to climbing.  He has that cat tree mastered, and thinks nothing of coming down off of it backwards, or hanging by the claws on one paw from it.  It's hilarious to watch him.

He's my darlin' Arthur, my Shoulder Kitty, and the best birthday present I ever had.

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