A while back we had a hefty mortgage and a mortgage owner from Hades. He hated all animals. Aside from shooting squirrels, he trapped cats. He also lived around the block. I am not sorry he is dead.
One day I received a frantic call from his neighbor across the street that he had trapped my big black feral cat and sent him to animal control. So I jumped in the car and burned rubber getting to animal control as I knew they killed feral cats.
When I got there, they showed me the huge black cat cowering in the corner of the cage and hissing and growling at everything. I was willing to pay the fines if they would just release him to me.
No dice. He was slated for death the next morning as a feral.
In their defense, they had no idea who and what they were dealing with. When cajoling didn't work, I sat down in the lobby. Twenty some minutes later, the gal running things looked out and said, "You aren't going to leave, are you?" My answer was: NOPE! Hey, I teethed on protests in the 60's and I also used to work for a newspaper. As soon as I got to a phone, this was before cell phones, I could cause all sorts of havoc.
About 5 minutes later she looked out and motioned me to the window. People were beginning to notice I had taken up residence. She told me to go get a carrier and she would release him to me. I made it to the old Albertson's in record time and charged a carrier on my anemic credit card and was back within twenty minutes.
Now the question was, how was I going to get a totally freaked out feral cat out of the cage into a carrier. It was solved by an older gentleman who arrived with welding gloves on, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and deposited him in my carrier. Out in the lobby, my angel awaited with a sheath of papers and a warning to return in 3 days when she returned to work and not to give anyone else those papers. Of course, money had to change hands as it is the government and they do nothing for free. By then my credit card was maxed, but the cat was in the carrier.
Much to my shock, reading over what I had signed to spring him, I had agreed to have him neutered within the three days. Okay, I went directly to my vet. HELP!
All I had to do was bring him back the next morning and wait as my vet was anxious to try out a new procedure for feral cats. He would sedate him, neuter him and then, give him a shot to bring him around, all in fifteen minutes or less to reduce the stress on him. Feral cats are super stressed coming out of anesthesia, more so than normal cats.
I managed to get this huge, heavy monster of a cat into a giant Verikennel by shaking him out and even talk my husband into buying a pair of welding gloves to retrieve him the next morning, though I think he wanted those gloves. Sure enough, things went amazingly well the next morning and Conner was recovering in the VeriKennel by 9 AM and having a hearty breakfast.
I was pretty worn out myself, so imagine my confusion when I arrived at the shop only to find my big black cat waiting on breakfast. Oooops. In my defense, it is dark in the cat room at Animal Control and in the cages and he IS black. However, I was tired enough to drive home and make certain the cat was still in the cage. Yes, I had just saved a strange black cat from death.
The next morning I prepared myself for the ordeal of changing the kitty pan and feeding the feral cat. So, I decided to deliver the papers to Animal Control, instead. All went smoothly and said kitty was officially mine though I wasn't going to admit I had adopted the wrong cat. That was not my last shock of the day. Mr. Feral Cat came to the front of the cage, purring all the way and gave me the cat equivalent of a high five: the head butt.
Hence, I named him Conner as he sure managed to con me. He wasn't feral at all. Feral cats don't purr and they certainly don't tame down in 24 hours or less. Conner purrs so loudly, you can hear him across the room.
Conner has been with us for 15 years and he was around 5 when I was conned into being his furever human. He is the most loving, unassuming cat in the world. He is also one powerful kitty, completely muscled and heavy. He is getting a tad senile and we may have to build him a ladder to get to his favorite spots as he doesn't jump so well, but he is our baby and so he will stay so until he crosses over.Now, I ask you, does that look like a cat to messed with? He really is a big old baby. On the other hand, I took that picture right after I told him I was posting the above one to Facebook. He was not happy.
No comments:
Post a Comment