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Friday, August 17, 2012

You've Unlocked The Crazy Cat Lady Badge!

So last night at about, oh, I don't know 10 PM, Cheech started to lose his everloving mind barking. This is a semi-usual occurrence for him -- it usually is something like the mailman going by, or people walking their dogs on the street, or other just normal things that come from living in an urban area. He usually barks for a minute, then huffs all haughtily and goes back to being fat and sassy.

But sometimes, he's really effing insistent. As if their are zombies trying to break down our door and he's totally giving away that there are live, non-zombie humans in here but you best not want to eat them for your zombie dinner because that's HIS plan if we all just perish from starvation or whatever.

Between him and the cats, dude, the zombies don't have a chance.

So when he gets all beside himself, I figure there's actually someone at the door that actually wants us to acknowledge their presence. I begrudgingly got up from my nightly Interwebs perusal because I wasn't sure if I was hearing knocking on our screen door or if it was just Sylvester, the porch cat, demanding his dinner, unlocked our seventeen thousand locks, and looked through the screen to see what all the commotion was about.

There was a young boy on my porch, clutching a tiny pet bed wrapped up in his sweatshirt (because of course it was raining), who nervously looked at me.

I eyeballed him because (a) please don't be what I think this is and (b) it's a school night why aren't you in bed and (c) Kyle's not going to be happy.

And then, then the little white head popped out of the bed and two orange eyes pitifully looked at me, and the boy began to speak quickly.

"My friend and I found this cat and my friend over there said that you have cats and we can't keep it because I have a dog and so I brought it here to you, and it's a girl."

Shitsticks.

I looked at the tiny face, gauging it to be about 2-3 months old. The boy was already handing the kitten to me, so I took it to give it a once over.

It looked clean, like it hadn't been outside long (if at all), but through it's white fur I could see some flea dirt. It's ears looked gunky, probably in a mite-y way but possibly not. Eyes and ears had minimal goop, but nothing super gross looking like infection or disease, just ... goop. And a peek at it's rear end revealed that the gender was most definitely male.

The boy held out the tiny pet bed (which was black velour with pink cheetah print and not old in the least) and was joined by a slightly older girl, who told me some story about the cat being in a tree but her mom's allergic and she has a pit bull puppy and they're moving anyway and she loves cats but she can't keep it.

Ah.

The boy told me he was from across the street, a family that moved in a couple of weeks ago, and I didn't recognize the girl at all, but she somehow knew we had cats, too.

Effffffffffffffffffffffffffffff.

I made the boy hold the kitten while I went inside to talk to Kyle, whose gut reaction was as I expected -- unhappy and completely unwilling, but some talk of not keeping the kitten, just fostering or rehoming it, and he acquiesced because ... well, I don't really know why.

And now, well, now I have a tiny kitten living in my upstairs bathroom.

I named him Tucker Earl (hat tip to Tanis) and he needs a home.






He's a bit timid out of the gate, but if you give him a minute, he's a little cuddly purr bucket. I've given him a flea bath and put some Frontline on him (because what's really sad here, other than apparently the whole ghettohood knows I'm a crazy cat lady, is that I'm prepared for these sorts of things and have a process to deal with them) but he'll obviously need taken to a vet and checked out, neutered, and given his shots, which is something we can't afford right now (dude, my car needs new brakes and we're scrounging every last cent for that little nugget of awesome).

If I can't find a home for him pretty much this weekend, I'll take him to the shelter I used to work for and hope that they'll take him, though I know the likelihood is slim due to it being kitten season. I'd really love to send him to a happy, new home that will love and care for him, but that place can't be here.

So please spread the word for me -- I'm using the hashtag #findtuckerahome on Twitter and on Instagram (I'm so_tabulous there) and hopefully we can find this sweet little guy a forever home soon.

2 comments :

  1. Uuugghh nooooo. *holding back tears* Its so cuttteeeeee. Youre probably sick of people saying this, but Im going to add to your misery and say it anyway: If I could take this kitten, I would. And if my mom took one look at this kitten she would want it and if she could take this kitten (she is famous Rescuer of Kittens in HER area too, they had 5 at one point, all rescues/shelter cats except 1), she would. Alas it is not to be. But you are my Hero of the Week for taking this cat in (even temporarily). I know how hard it is being THAT CAT PERSON. I have a cat story to share!

    Back in 2008, Lenore, our youngest cat, was rescued from the Tim Hortons I used to work at (on Far Hills). When she was even tinier than THAT kitten above (yes, even tinier, how it is possible for kittens to be so tiny!) she was discovered hanging out around my car parked at work. No one had any idea where she came from but all day my coworkers were like "Lindsey theres a kitten under your car... Lindsey theres a kitten licking your car tires (true story)... Lindsey that kitten is crawling under your car hood." Ugh oh god it was crazy and it lasted all through my 10 hour shift, everyone keeping an eye on this kitten for me out the drive-thru window and me fretting over the fate of this kitten. People trying to feed Timbits to this kitten. *roll eyes*

    So when my shift was almost over, the baker (who was a cat lover too) and I opened my car hood and he grabbed the terrified kitten from the scary mechanical parts on which it was perched and flung it in a box and baby sat that box to make sure the kitten couldnt escape. For an hour we left my car running with the AC on and the doors open (it was June), me praying for the last bit of my shift to go quickly, him sitting in the back seat next to this box, trying to feed the kitten little bits of Tim Hortons turkey.

    After my shift was finally over I took the kitten to our vet and had them clean it, give it shots, de-flea it, all that good stuff. The total bill was over 300$ (yeah uh huh fucking geez and that wasnt even with spaying her). On the way home from HIS day at work, Tony swung by the vet to see the cat and... brought her home. He wasnt supposed to bring her home, we had AGREED that she would stay boarded at the vet for the weekend until we could take her to SICSA since we could NOT take in another cat, but I guess he saw her itty-bittiness and fell in love.

    So he brought her home and that night we were like DAWWW LETS KEEP HER OKAY and later had her spayed, because ALL cats should be spayed/neutered and if people dont fix their pets, esp cats, they shouldnt be allowed to have them (I am VERY serious about my spay/neuter policy esp for cats).

    That was just a few weeks before our wedding. The money that went toward getting her fixed up and her shots and everything was money that we were going to put towards hyphenating our last names to Jamieson-Hunt (which was stupid expensive, for court dates and paperwork and legal docs and all this other shit); instead, I just took Tonys last name, which was fucking free except for the cost of getting my license updated, which I needed to do anyway because it expired that year (insert comment about stupid-ass patriarchal society).

    So Lenore (named after the Roman Dirge comic book character, which was named after the Edgar Allan Poe poem, of course) is the greatest cat ever and we are so thankful to have her. The end! Yay Cat Stories!

    Good on your for taking this cat in. Fortunately kittens are easier to adopt out than older cats. Good luck and dont squeeze him too many times, otherwise youll end up keeping him, I know it. *squee, lookit his wittle tongue!*

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  2. I took in two cats and a Chihuahua/German Shepherd (really) mix about 6 weeks ago because a friend's mother was going to put them on the street. My cats hate them. My dog hates them. I don't WANT four cats and two dogs and three kids, but it seems I'm stuck with them because the shelter won't take them in. My landlord is not happy but I don't really see that I have another option at them moment.

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