All summer, my fiancé and I have been feeding a colony of feral kittens and cats that live in our backyard. One day, early in August we discovered that one of the kittens, maybe 4 or 5 weeks old at the time, was not breathing easily. It became painfully obvious that this tiny little kitten had a respiratory illness and if we didn't do something about it, who knows how long she would make it out in the wild. Complicating issues further (if you have never seen or dealt with feral cats), she was absolutely 100% terrified of us!! But, with a strong desire to play and eat and the sweetest most innocent face you've ever seen, we couldn't possibly imagine leaving this poor creature out on her own. We talked about how we could care for her and find her a good home and whether or not we thought we would be able to trap her. Over the next 48 hours, she let us know, herself, exactly how this was all going to play out. Every day I would find her hiding behind or under the grill on our deck, directly in front of our sliding door. She no longer went upstairs to sleep with her Mama and her brother. She no longer ran about in her crazy zig zag way that she did when we first saw her. In her own, timid way, I truly believe, she was trying to tell us that she was sick – she was too sick to move – or at least too sick to climb the stairs – she was too sick to protect herself from predators which is why she hid in the protection of our grill – but as sick as she was and as scared as she was, she was brave enough to come out from under her little shelter to let us know that she still wanted to live. She would come out from under her little shelter just long enough to let us know that she still wanted to live. She would eat little ripped up pieces of lunch meats and cheeses with the most innocent delight from our hands. She was so sweet. I think she chose us. In fact, ask any cat owner ore person who works with cats in any aspect of their lives and they will likely tell you the same thing – you don’t get to choose your pet cat – they will choose you! So we made a plan Friday night, August 6th to find a way to get the little girl (who at the time we thought was a boy, who we called Lil Tiger because of the Calico coloring of her fur in gorgeous patterns of orange, black and white) and bring her to a vet. The first vet we had picked out to take her to closed at 5pm but as time kept ticking on and we realized just how difficult the task of getting her was going to be, that vet quickly was crossed off our list. With the vet nearest our house closing at 6:00pm, we finally caught her at 5:45pm! Of course, at this point my fiancé’s arms had been clawed at and scratched to no end and the little girl was writhing and rolling in a little clothes box that I had made numerous holes in to ensure plenty of oxygen (The shelter I was referred to to borrow a carrier was closed when I went by). Every time I peaked in or removed the towel that was covering the holes (I read you are supposed to help the feral kitty feel like she is hiding from you – then she will be less scared), she made quick attempts to get out or to at least let me know she was not happy to be in such a small space or in for a bouncy car ride and she spat at me! (I don’t’ know why kittens and cats think spitting is so threatening – it is really the funniest thing to see them do to you) The next vet on our list closed at 6:00pm but luckily, it was practically just across the street because I was really not sure how long I was going to be able to keep this kitty under the lid of this makeshift kennel. We arrived at the vet’s door at 5:50pm; 10 minutes before the closed, and I breathed a sigh of relief – Apparently, I let out my breath too soon, though, because when I pulled on the door, it was locked!! I could see the receptionist in the window doing (what I imagine to be) her nightly paperwork and she began mouthing the words “We’re Closed”. Closed?!?! But it’s only 10 of 6:00pm, I pointed to my watch. She came outside to (very rudely, I might add) let us know that there was no doctor on site and that there was no way we were going to be let into the facility. She was angry. She was unsympathetic and she was very curt with us. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. We had just spent the past 2 and a half hours trying to capture this little kitten to bring her back to health, and we were about to be denied services! I moved the box up closer to my face and the receptionist’s and said, as calmly as I could contain my emotions, “But I have a feral kitten in this box who is very sick. I can’t just bring her back and….what am I supposed to do.” The receptionist had no words for me, only a very agitated and annoyed eye roll that was directed towards me and my fiancé. During this exchange another customer had begun walking towards the vet’s entrance and without another word to us or the new person walking up the path, the receptionist hurried inside (to lock herself in?). In what seemed like an eon of time later, she finally came back out with a postcard in her hand and told us “that’s where we could go”. I started to ask her a question about her reference and she gave me the hand! The hand!??!! As in, “not another word; that’s all you’re getting out of me.” Thankfully, this experience was a blessing in disguise as her “referral” (if you can justly call it that) turned out to be a 24-Hour Pet Clinic that staffed the nicest, most understanding, educated and knowledgeable persons. (I don’t know hwat ever happened to the woman who “dared’ to walk up to the facility that closed at 6:00pm (at 5:55pm)…she was apparently just coming to pick up a specially ordered prescription assigned by the doctor at the vet. Now come on, tell me, if a place advertises on their website, on their door and everywhere else that they close at 6:00pm, would you assume they close at 6:00pm or ten of 6:00pm!?!?!?
So other than our new kitten (who takes up a good 75% of my time), all the regular stuff has been filling up my day, school work, the regular 9 to 5, tennis, friends, my fiancé and family and of course, reading, listening to audio books and writing reviews. I’m hoping to start a new writing class next Saturday for a few weeks (to maybe get that spark going to really make writing my own fiction part of my everyday routine) and I also have my annual charity tennis tournament the same weekend.
As always, Happy Writing and Keep Reading. Love, Cathy
