Ah, "Spa Day". This is where we tell the kitties they are going as we cram them into carriers and rumple their dignity. Often times, my best friend Jennie helps me with transport since drop off and pickup times occur while I need to be at work. Usually it's just 2 or 3 kittens per trip... but not today.
Today saw the transporting and orchestration of Spa Day for 9 cats and catlings. Jennie spent the night last night and helped me catch and cram wiggly kittens into carriers. See, carriers are fascinating until the moment you want the kitten to go inside. Then they become objects that induce terror.
The image above is seven pet carriers in Jennie's car as she heads to Humane Society of Tampa Bay with seven kitties. This should be an advertisement for the Nissan Versa. Versa: All the Space for All the Cats.
Since we had split locations today, I then took off with Mr Bingley and Mr. Darcy to Hillsborough County Animal Services. (They came from there so they get fixed there.) Of course these locations are on opposite sides of town, so today needed teamwork.
So here's the rundown for what shall forever after be known as "Super Spa Day"
Bingley plays office kitten after being denied service.
It's a hard knock life.
Belinda Cratchit: Spayed, shots, microchip
Bob Cratchit: Teasted with possible heart murmur. Needs re-check at another facility.
Peter Cratchit: Neutered, shots, microchip
Tiny Tim Cratchit: Too small at weigh in. Spending the day with Jennie
Atticus Finch: Neutered, shots, microchip- being adopted on Friday
Scout Finch: Spayed, shots, microchip- being adopted on Friday
Mr Darcy: Neutered, shots, microchip
Mr Bingley: Too small at weigh in. Spending the day with Kristen
Scully: Fixed, shots, microchip
And at this moment we are both preparing to do it all over again, just in reverse. Tonight will be a lot of dopey kittens wandering around and two tired cat ladies eating leftover pizza.
Atticus Finch and Jean Louise 'Scout' Finch joined me this week. They'd been living with their mom under a decaying mattress and box spring in the side yard of an abandoned home. This wasn't the best place to be with upcoming storms and interested free roaming neighborhood dogs.
Atticus is a short hair black male American bobtail mix with a half length tail. Scout is a black and white bicolor female with medium length fur. Both kittens were of a feral disposition at first, hissing and spitting whenever they were approached.
48 hours has changed their minds about life on the inside. Atticus is fearless. He sees not obstacles, only challenges to conquer. Scout is sweet of disposition but has a lot to say. She's a bit of a talker and if she is not getting what she wants, she will merrily let you know about it. These two should make weight in the next week or two and can then be taken for their vetting and fixing. By then, I imagine they will be champ indoor kitties.
They have already been wooed by the delicacies of turkey goo, the never ending bowl o' kibble, the pillow bed and the wonders of fleece. On demand clean water and the litter box that they don't have to clean also seem to be appreciated.
I'll post more about them soon, including when they will be available for adoption.
She started coiled like a tight spring, full of fear and anger. Now, Irene has begun to slowly uncoil and show some personality. She likes to sprawl and roll. She likes comfy places and is quick to steal the warm spot on the couch as soon as you vacate a seat. Irene is enamored of squishy food and comfy places.
Irene starts as a sad story. She was seized along with a number of other animals from an animal hoarding case and taken to the high-kill county shelter. She was sick and not well socialized so she went straight to isolation where her health issues were treated, but this, of course, didn't help her socialize.
Irene got mean. She was a terror in a cage. Tooth, claw and rage. She hissed and spat at anyone who approached her cage and thus she was slated for euthanasia. I'm a sucker for a hard case.
Irene is an approximately 8 month old, short coat black female. She came to me already fixed and fully vetted but was essentially feral. And she was mad. She'd been in a cage for a *very* long time and she was super pissed about that life.
I arrived to pick her up. The staff person looked at my paperwork and said "That one? Really?". I said "Yes, that one". The staff woman sighed and headed off, looking like the was readying herself to do battle. Fifteen minutes later my carrier was brought back with what sounded like a demon inside. I really never had heard such growling from a cat before.
The shelter was loud. It smells funny. There's people and animals just everywhere. People kept grabbing her to take her blood, or do surgery, or give her medicine, or stick her with needles... and she was just done.
I took the carrier out to the car and put it on the passenger seat. Inside, there was a towel with a small lump in the center and silence. I got in the car and started driving. Figuring this kitten could use some down time, I didn't put on the radio. Instead, I sang. A few slow and quiet songs later, a nose and pair of eyes appeared from under the towel to regard me.
Upon arriving home, I took her to the Bathroom of Isolation so she could have a couple of chill days realizing that no one here wanted to murder her. After a few days, I just stopped shutting the bathroom door. Irene was going to live in my closet. That was that. She'd come out to cautiously eat and then would be gone again, shimmied under a shoe rack or jammed behind a sweater box. For about a week there was no change.
Then she moved under the bed, displacing Kit and Allen Quatermain, which was actually good for both of them to get more socialization time. Since then, under my bed has become her den and she guards it well. If any other cat attempts to enter, they are quickly shown the headboard. If my feet venture too far under the quilt while I am making the bed, I receive a swat of warning or occasionally a light nibble.
In the last few days, things have started to change. She ventures out around the house. She's learning how to lounge about on the furniture and steal the warm spot on the sofa. Irene has discovered her great passion for squishy food and watching things on "Cat TV", also known as through the screen on the back porch. She's approached me for a sniff and does not run from me when I go about the business of filling food bowls. She still has zero interest in having my hands on her, but she'll sit companionably beside me and Quatermain to eat her plate full of cod in cheesy bacon sauce.
Irene Addler has lost her hate. Now we'll just see if she can find some trust. Until then, she'll be savaging this stick toy. It's hers now.
