A (LUCKY) INJURED STRAY CAT

Now what was I saying in the previous post about nothing worth writing about at (relative) length?

Yesterday, Andrea got a call at the shop about a stray cat not too far away. A kindly soul had been feeding it but she was going on holiday and, although her daughter would still be feeding it, she was concerned about its long term fate. Andrea mentioned this to me on the phone when asking if I had any cat food for the pregnant cat and two kittens being kept temporarily at our shop(see previous post). As it happened I had a boot full of cat and dog food from the donations bin at the local Sainsburys so I got in the car and went down to drop it off. While there I called the lady and arranged to get the cat neutered and vaccinated (first flu jab) on Tuesday, cat being accommodating enough to let me, with a view to taking it to our re-homing centre after the second flu jab three weeks hence. The cat was, reportedly, very friendly and the lady would have taken it in except her cat didn't like it much.

So, okay.

This morning I was out and about collecting a packet from the parcel office, buying cat food at Sainsburys for Carole, dropping the food off at her place on the other side of the river and then down not quite to the sea front to pay a pet shop for the litter he takes to Carole's. I got home, had a coffee and compiled the last post. 

I'd just finished it when I got a call from the lady's daughter. The cat had turned up and was covered in blood. "I'm on my way," I said.

Thankfully it wasn't as bad as I'd feared, though it definitely needed treatment at the vets and it had been in a fight. It was friendly and, by sneaking up on it from behind, got it easily into my flip-top cat carrier and rang the vets. The young woman gave me an unexpected and much appreciated donation -especially when I didn't get offered a penny from someone whose lost cat I'd returned a few days ago- of £40.

Once at the vets, Wendy gave it a good checking over. It seemed healthy enough and was quite young -only 3-4 years old. She gave it anti-biotics and Stronghold (a flea/worming treatment). It was also mostly quite placid on the table and my impression is of a quite re-homeable cat. Here it is at the vets.

All that remained was to decide what to do with it. And what, dear reader, do you think I did?

Yes, sighs deeply, you are correct. I brought it home with me and put it in a cage in my bedroom for it to settle down.

No, I'm not going to foster any more cats. Oh no. Not me. Ever again. For definite.

Meanwhile here's a photo of Squeak and Arya my latest acquisitions together.

MORE ABOUT MONDAY, EVERYTHING ABOUT TUESDAY

As it turned out Monday still had plenty in store for me. Before I could leave the house for Ferry Farm I got a call from Saturday's couple who said they were interested in either Gilgamesh the ocicat or Sox the young male. When I told them that I had people coming who might be interested them as well as I was told they'd prefer Gilgamesh. Okay.

Off I went to Ferry Farm to meet the new couple around 11.45-12.00. Almost on the dot of twelve, Susan rang me to say that the electrician who was going to work on my cooker wanted to come early. We settled on 1.00 which would give me another half hour of waiting time max. Luckily I only needed fifteen minutes which left me just enough time to introduce the people to each cat and then leave them to spend more with the furry monsters. Another nice young couple who'd brought along their granny from Grimsby who was up for a visit. If she'd been younger, she said, she'd have taken Burnside. 

So I got home, waited for the electrician and in the meantime got a call from an elderly retired councillor whose cat had died not long since and wanted to foster long-term an elderly cat. The was a no-brainer as I'd already nearly given Tammy into the care of an elderly lady (see previous posts). I arranged to bring her (Tammy, that is) over at lunchtime on Tuesday. Meanwhile I got a call from Lynn who'd taken in the oldish cat abandoned at Peterlee nine days earlier that he was quite poorly. I booked him in for 5.30 and texted Lynn to that effect.

Once the electrician had gone (needed a part which he'll bring later in the week), I got a call from lunchtime's couple who not only wanted the 2-year old females Shappi and Miranda but also Sox (see above). They'd collect them in a couple of weeks when they start a fortnight's holiday which they can then spend with them. Result!

Good day's work.

Lynn told me the old boy's bowels were very loose and he wasn't using the litter tray. Despite eating a lot I could tell he hadn't put on any weight. While he would purr softly when stroked, he was otherwise lethargic and didn't interact in any way with the other animals in the house as he spent most of his time on the top of the settee.  He'd also been howling, as I'd expected, on a regular basis so all in all I wasn't very optimistic. I just didn't see him as having much of a chance which Louise the vet confirmed. His time was up. I suspect the people who'd abandoned him had also known as much and did what they did because they either didn't have the heart or the cash.

The two cats -Alpha and Beta Fluffy, now known as Bron and Dany- came home with me and are fine. When I woke around five this morning, Dany noticed and came and snuggled up next to me.

Tuesday morning and not long after swimming I turned up at the Royal Hospital for my hearing checkup in Audiology (like it would be anywhere else). I was seen to -correction: poor choice of words- I was looked after by a very nice young woman with whom I talked about animals (she has a dog), the many virtues of the NHS, and other stuff like my support for the recent public sector strike. My hearing has deteriorated a little but not a lot and she fine-tuned my two hearing aids. Seeing as I mentioned it, I want to emphasise it even more. I love the NHS! Sure it's not perfect, it never could be without infinite funding but it's far better than anything the Americans have with their ludicrous pathological fear of what they call 'socialised medicine'.

So there.

A little later and off to Ferry Farm to pick up Tammy and take her to her new home in a large three-storey Victorian building not far outside the city centre. Then home for food, some reading, and a nap. 

5.30 and I was back at Ferry Farm to meet the young couple who'd come to collect Gilgamesh. Getting him into the carrier wasn't easy as what they'd brought was a bit on the flimsy side and he's a very big and very strong boy. I strongly recommended they get something a bit more secure, ideally with a flip top which is what I prefer to use as it's much easier to get awkward cats inside. They very generously gave a substantial bit extra as a donation on top of the £60 adoption fee for which I and the treasurer thank them very much.

Spoke to Susan not long ago and there are definitely rumours of more than one kitten needing somewhere to stay. 

Crap.

DOG RESCUING, SUNDERLAND

1. Dog Rescuing, Sunderland.

Sometimes it's just a matter of being in the right place at the right time.

As I was at the vets with the little cat I took in last night (see below) and still had cat food in my boot from when I collected it at Asda yesterday, it only made sense to drop it off at Carole's who lives just up the road.

The moment I opened the boot a young boxer came up to me and wanted to be friendly so I made a brief fuss of it and opened Carole's gate so I could carry the cat food up to her back door. Only the dog got in there first. 

Five minutes later I was back at the vets, this time with Carole and the boxer on a spare lead she had handy. Wendy the vet scanned the dog and -ping! ping! ping! ping!- hurrah! it was chipped.We left it with Wendy to sort out.

If I hadn't decided on the spur of the moment to call at Carole's and got there just when I did, anything could have happened to the dog. Here it is. (And they are Carole's legs, not mine!)

2.1 Cat rescuing, Sunderland.

I still can't get a decent photo of the cat I took in last night.

Wendy found a lump I'd noticed on her right hind leg and decided to keep her in and take an X-ray of it. She also confirmed my initial impression that the cat was about a year old. It also had a chipped canine. I've got to ring back early this afternoon -it's noon as I'm typing this- and will put an update at the end of this post about what's happening to her.

2.2 Cat rescuing, Sunderland.

On the way back home I called in on Susan (my ex, for new readers) to drop off the dog food which had occupied the rest of my boot space and she told me that there was a cat upstairs in our charity shop which I'd have to drive past anyway so I stopped and called in to check it out.

I know absolutely nothing about the cat except that it is young, maybe a year and a bit, it's black and white, and it's very very friendly; also it's the mother of the kittens Andrea re-homed and she brought it in. It's also another bloody cat that won't stay still so I can take a decent photo. (I refuse to countenance the idea that I'm rubbish at taking photos, all evidence to the contrary).

Post Script.

Just rang the surgery and Wendy found a metal pin surgically implanted in the cat's leg which has become dislodged or something. Anyway, I'm picking her up later, about four-ish, as I have to be over that way anyway to go to my dentist to pick up my modified denture, and then it's off to Ferry Farm when, hopefully, Gilgamesh the ocicat will be adopted.

And on top of that I've got another problem. Just got a call from a lady with special needs who took a cat from us several years ago but has now gone into sheltered accommodation where other residents keep tripping over the cat. The problem being that there's no accommodating, sheltered or otherwise, for the cat right now. I said I'd call round next week but I don't know what I'm going to do yet.