Things were a little quiet over Easter. We’d held on to a rescue space for a couple of weeks in the hope of taking in a pregnant cat and enjoying the patter of tiny feet. For various reasons that didn’t happen, and for a short, bizarre time through Easter week we had no one asking for rescue space.
It all changed last Sunday when the rescue friend through whom little Sparkle and her siblings arrived, contacted us about another poor stray cat. We shelved the hope of a pregnant female and took in a grubby, battle scarred gentleman from Leeds.
He’d coped remarkably well with his lovely feeder getting hold of him and taking him indoors overnight ready to come to rescue the following day. However the M1 and then other cats outside his bedroom door freaked him out a bit and he retreated into his shell …. or rather a cardboard box … and refused to speak to me other than the odd hiss.
It was a bit touch and go whether Paul would agree to attending his vet appointment. Thankfully he decided he liked Dr Fran and let her have a reasonably good look at him. It was rather surreal as we had a photo of a wound from his feeder but didn’t know where it was on his body …… which led to several minutes of rummaging around hoping his patience would last. We found it and it appeared to be healing so we decided that checking his temperature would be an unnecessary pushing of our luck. We did however agree that a long acting antibiotic jab would be a good plan just in case. Paul decided to wait under his towel whilst Fran went off to get it.
Of course just as we’d filled the rescue space our occasional (believed to be) stray visitor became a regular. Aunty Jenny and I first spotted him a couple of months ago …. mud wrestling with another unneutered tom cat in a neighbours garden. It coincided with when Tyga & Belle had arrived here …. unspayed …. and were going through their pole dancing phase.
A few weeks later my other neighbours asked me if I’d seen this tabby and white cat and were worried that he was limping. I soon spotted him and tried to engage him in conversation … but he didn’t want to know. It’s taken some time to make friends with him but we’re getting there. I invited him for a meal and he accepted … with the proviso that I sat the other end of the driveway whilst he ate. Then he started letting me closer, and sitting waiting for me at tea time, and then letting me stroke him a little.
We’re working towards him being confident enough to let me check him for a chip or even put a paper collar on to see if he’s going home somewhere. I doubt it though. He seems to spend most of his days on my neighbour’s lawn, looking through the hedge to see when I’m around to feed him.
And since then we’ve been inundated again with requests to take cats into rescue … all the usual excuses … mainly allergies and landlords …. but also one wanting rescue because the cat was scratching the wallpaper! We offered a space to another cat because they’d come via a friend. Then kind of wished we hadn’t because he turned out to be quite a bit older than ‘advertised’ …. full of hormones … singing pornographic songs from dawn to dusk.
He’s a nice lad … but sooner he has his snip and chip the better for the whole family.