Rescue babies

I haven't been doing rescue work very long, but I have been very glad to have saved five kitties and gotten them adopted from shelters or by private individuals.  I hope so much that they were adopted by wonderful, loving people, and are having very happy lives as I write this.

Blanco.  Blanco is a gorgeous, sweet little boy from down the street.  A neighbor's boyfriend had adopted Blanco as a birthday gift for her daughter.  I had met him wandering around out back as I worked in my garden.  He was totally affectionate and gentle.  It was clear the little girl adored him.

Unfortunately, sometimes people are morons.  In most of my pages, I try not to judge others, and I try to be kind with my words.  But this time, I am going to say it.  Some people are morons.  These people most definitely are.

One night, late at night, I looked out to see beautiful little Blanco on my front porch.  I went out and scooped him up in my arms, petting him and talking to him gently as I always did.  I went down and knocked on the door where I knew he belonged.  I awoke the sleeping boyfriend who didn't bother to open the door, but just yelled out "We don't have a cat!"  Say what?  I thought.  Fine.  I'll go knock on her sister's door, right next door.  The sister's boyfriend did open the door, and told me what had happened.  They kicked Blanco out because he was "spraying and had fleas."

I was livid.  They couldn't get him neutered and get a flea treatment from a vet?  Apparently, they were morons to the point that they could not imagine those simple two things.

I took him home, and put him in our "Kitty Isolation Room" aka, "The Computer Room", aka "The Guest Room", aka "The Kitty Rescue Room".  It's the one room we keep the cats out of regularly, for just such occasions.

I called the mostly no-kill shelter, and they couldn't take him for a couple of weeks.   So my husband and I enjoyed Blanco's company for a couple of weeks, until we had to take him to the shelter.  We would have loved to have kept him; he was a beautiful looking, mostly white/cream colored cat that looked vaguely Siamese, with a lot of personality and a propensity to be a very affectionate lap cat.  But we had four cats, and a fifth cat was coming later that very day to stay with us, so we just did not see how we could.

They fell in love with him at the shelter immediately.  I don't think he was there longer than he had to be to get neutered, defleaed, dewormed, and vaccinated before he was adopted.  Somewhere, someone has a wonderful little kitty, and I hope they realize what a special cat he is.

Angel.  I didn't name Angel; my friend/neighbor Lora who has rescued a whole lot of cats did.

Angel is a little black beauty, who is another majorly affectionate sweetheart.  I grabbed her one night when I heard those noises cats make that say they're in the mood for love.  Poor little Angel was cowering before a huge unneutered male cat.  I grabbed her swiftly and acquainted her with the "Kitty Isolation Room."

We only had to wait about a week this time to get her into the shelter.  She was a doll in the meanwhile, though.

After we got her in there, Lora and I stopped in to the shelter one day to say hi to all the kitties and see how Angel was doing.  We talked to a woman there who wanted to adopt a black cat for her sister, but said they had grown up with a black cat who wasn't very affectionate.  "Oh, well there's one here that's *super* affectionate!" we told her.  And we introduced the woman to Angel.  I don't know whether or not she came back to adopt her, but the next time I called, Angel had been adopted.  I hope she's a happy sweetheart wherever she is now.

Florida.   Florida is a wonderful, almost perfectly-behaved cat.  We kept him for way too long, as the shelter was overcrowded and the waiting list was six weeks to get a kitty in.  I'm not sure I'm cut out for rescue when it is that long a time to wait.  Both my husband and I got so attached to Florida, that we still miss him, months after he went to the shelter.

Florida was a stray kitty who was very spooked by people at first.  I was putting food out regularly for any strays, ferals, etc. in the neighborhood, as I had started doing a couple of years earlier.  Florida started showing up in late October 2000.  For a good week, I could get nowhere near him.  Every time I tried to slowly open the door to go outside when he was on the porch, he bolted.  Finally, one night, his curiosity got the best of him, and he started to come over to me.  Unfortunately, that's right when the next door neighbor dog person came bounding out of his home like a big, loping dog.  Skitter!  There went the little black cat.  Amazingly, he tried it again later that night.  But the stars were not with us, apparently; a very loud truck came roaring by, and he took off again into the night.

I had Lora's Havahart trap, and decided to set it.  This cat clearly wasn't feral; just very cautious and skittish.  I gathered some advice, and set it up with some sardines in it, taking away his regular dry food for 24 hours.

I looked out the window that night, and there he was, sitting nicely in the trap.  Except the trap hadn't sprung.  Criminy!  I was beside myself, since the last rescue I had attempted had been killed before I could get her, and the same thing had happened.  I sat and cried awhile, but didn't know what to do.  I decided finally to try to set the trap again another day, and so I put out dry food again.

He came around again later, and to my surprise, when I looked out the window at him, he was just sitting on the porch, looking around.  He saw me, and didn't run.  I ever so slowly opened the door, so I was talking to him through the storm door, and he stayed where he was.  When I finally opened the storm door, he ran a few feet away, but no farther.  I crouched down by the food, with more food in hand, and poured it in the bowl, all the while gently chirping at him and talking to him.  He cautiously approached, and I slowly extended my hand.  He finally got close enough to sniff me, and then almost immediately started rubbing hard up against me.   I let him get comfortable with me for about one more minute, then I did the "grab-and-run" maneuver, and got him up to the "Kitty Isolation Room" over his objections.

He was a little freaked out for about 24 hours, and then realized I wasn't going to hurt him, and he relaxed.

I named him Florida, because it was the day after the 2000 US election when I finally grabbed him, and I figured his future was uncertain, too.  I still wonder if he waited for me that night because he was just so happy for the sardines, and was hoping I'd bring him out some more!

We spent a lot of time over the next six weeks with him in that room, playing, petting, feeding, and all the usual things one does for a cat.  He was almost perfectly behaved, which was a wonder to us.  He got a little crazy the one time we decided to let him out with the other cats, as, like all other unneutered male cats before him, he decided that Internet was a girl cat, and he wasn't about to let anyone tell him otherwise.  Otherwise, he was a perfectly behaved cat ;-)

After losing Orangeade to the traffic, I was very protective of Florida.  The shelter I have taken other cats to is not strictly no-kill; they will put down cats who are positive for feline leukemia and feline immunodeficiency virus; they will put down very ill cats that would require a great deal to care for them; and they will put down ferals.  I was not about to take any chances with Florida, so I took him to my own vet to get him tested, checked out, and dewormed.  Lora had already come down and helped me de-flea and de-mite him with a treatment of Revolution (much to Florida's displeasure), so I figured getting the rest done would assure that they would put him out for adoption.  Unfortunately, my vet doesn't test for FIV, but since the feleuk test came out negative, I figured it was highly unlikely he would test positive for FIV.

When I took Florida in, I wrote a lengthy letter about everything I had done, and how wonderful a cat he is.  I really wanted this guy to have a chance!

Lora checked on him recently, and to my relief, he has been adopted.  I am so glad, and I hope whoever has him realizes what a wonderful little fellow he is.

Princess Leia.  You know you truly are the Eccentric Neighborhood Cat Lady when your neighbors start bringing you rescue cats.  One day, one of the neighborhood children knocked on my door with a beautiful little calico in his arms.  He found her under a car, he said, and wondered if I could take her in or find her a home.  She was sweet, and beautiful, and I took her up to the Kitty Rescue Room.

Well, sweet wasn't the word.  She suddenly turned quite into the Princess, snarling at me until I gave her food, which she grudgingly accepted from me.  She wanted to make it quite clear that she was the Princess, and I had best understand that fact.  Once I did, she was once again the sweet little thing I had first met.

Again, we couldn't keep her and nobody claimed her.  And she was young, beautiful, and very, very adoptable.  She had a great chance of finding a wonderful home, unlike some of the other furry ones that we had kept.  So I started the round of calls and e-mails to shelters and rescue groups.  And hit a brick wall.

Everybody was full.  Everybody had waiting lists, or weren't even taking names.  I was becoming desperate.  It was summer, and we do not have central air conditioning.  We could not let an untested kitten out with our other cats.  Our asthmatic cats had to have access to our one air-conditioned room.  But she was panting and miserable.  I did not know what to do.

Someone finally pointed me in the direction of some wonderful employees at a vet hospital within walking distance from my home.  I walked up there in the 90+ degree heat, hopeful that I could get this  little girl some help.  But the clinic had just ordered them to get rid of all their rescues within two weeks.  I explained the situation, but they said there was nothing they could do.

But their kind hearts wouldn't let them forget about Princess Leia, as I was calling her.  By the time I got home, there were messages on my machine.  If I could keep her another week, they could get her into a shelter.

I was willing, but we still had the problem of the heat.  I started bringing ice up to her, once every half-hour, and icing down her fur while putting ice in her water bowl as well.  Even with that and the fan on full-blast, I could tell it was very uncomfortable for her, and I was so worried for this pretty little calico.

I ran out the next day to get some more ice and a few things from the grocery, and came home to find the kind ladies from the vet hospital on my porch, carrier in hand.  They had decided they would take her home, where they had air conditioning, until the appointment date with the shelter.  I talked with them awhile, rounded up some food, and got Princess Leia, as the ice melted on the floor.

I checked at the shelter a week later, but she wasn't there.  I hope that either the caring folks that took her home decided to keep her, or some other loving soul adopted her almost immediately.  I'd like to think she is bathing herself as I write this, with that Princess air, sitting on some very fat fluffy pillow, enjoying her due.

Spaz.  One night while chatting with some fellow cat-lovers online, my new next-door neighbors knocked on my door.  In their arms was a sweet little black cat.  Yes, another one!  They had found her downtown, barely saving her from being hit by a car.  They had dogs and could not keep her, so they hoped I could take her.  Problem was, Merlyn was still recovering from her spay, and was still in the Kitty Rescue Room.  Yikes!  But I couldn't just leave her to the streets, so I brought her in and put her in our large dog-size carrier until I could figure out what to do.

The poor little thing was meowing up a storm, desperately wanting attention and affection.  I did the only thing I could do in the situation, and pulled one of the litterboxes out of the bathroom for our guys, and set up food and water in the bathroom and put her in there.  It wasn't ideal, but it was the best I could come up with at the time.

I called everyone I remotely thought might help.  There were a few vague possibilities, but nothing came through that was definite.

And then I thought to check the Pet FBI (Pets Found By Internet)  website.  There was one cat reported as missing, who, while not perfectly fitting the description, was awfully close.  It certainly never hurts to call, so I did.  The young girl I spoke to had her mother call me back, who anxiously wanted to see if it was their cat, but was going out of town.  Her older daughter lived close to me, however, so arrangements were made for the daughter to come see the kitty.

The daughter immediately thought it was her family's missing cat, although she couldn't be certain.  Nearly everything fit except for two things:  their cat was male, and this one was not, and their cat was nasty-tempered, and this one was a complete sweetheart.  The daughter's boyfriend suggested that it was quite possible they simply had not yet known the gender, and that an experience out on the streets for a few weeks may well have mellowed the cat's personality.  I suppose all that is possible.  I don't know.  What I do know is it was clear the daughter fell in love with this silly little one immediately.  She took her home, and I have not heard from them since.  I am assuming (and hoping) the family all fell in love with little Spaz and decided that, even if she wasn't their missing cat, they wanted her anyway.

I was calling her Spaz because she looked and acted like a gawky teenager who wasn't quite all there :-)  It was meant in the best of affectionate ways.  And I hope that Spaz is getting plenty of affection wherever she is.
 

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