kittens

I’ve just realised that we haven’t mentioned the Zeds here on our blog.  Strange how we’ve managed to forget them when they’re mostly right here in front of us, using the keyboard as a trampoline.   They arrived about 3 weeks ago, aged 5-6 weeks, having been born in a shed.   Mum was already pregnant again and ran off when people tried to catch the family to bring them in to rescue ….. not an ideal situation but the little ones came into rescue on their own.  [Thankfully mum has since been trapped and is now in foster care]

We went to collect them, expecting some fierce hissing and spitting …. and rather a lot of fleas.  Oddly enough there was none of it.   They were a bit nervous but otherwise fine.  Their shy-ness lasted about 24 hours, at which point they emerged from their igloo ready to take on the world – despite the residents being rather less than welcoming.

I have to confess a secret preference for tom kittens, they’re somehow more easy going and affectionate than little girls.  These two are no exception … absolutely adorable little boys.    The residents have grudgingly accepted that they’re here for a while.

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In some ways they’re quite different characters – Zacchaeus is the calmer more sensible one (RELATIVELY …. we ARE talking kittens here) and more likely to do as he’s told,   whereas Zebedee is just a complete crazy live wire.    The times they just settle down to sleep are probably the best.

Our Betty is pretty clearly a first time mum ….. the look of shock on her face as she went into labour said it all.    She gave birth to them and cleaned them and sorted them out, but then quietly confided in me that she hadn’t really been looking to start a family yet.  She’s only young herself and was hoping to go to college and follow her dream of studying creative arts.

Her first challenge was to be able to get into the bed with all 5 of them without sitting on one of them.  She’d clamber in, settle herself down only to find one or two of them squealing and trying to wriggle out from under her.  Standing up and weighing up the situation, she’d turn round a bit, then settle down again, this time squashing the other kits.  She was clearly  flummoxed by it and decided the best plan was to stay out the bed most of the time, and just pop in occasionally to feed … but stay sitting up …so she didn’t crush anyone.

I was a little concerned because when I went into her bedroom she was never with the kits.   Nevertheless, they were always clean (I imagined her diving in with a handful of baby wipes, then making a swift exit),  were clearly growing, and mostly seemed contented and sleeping.  Nothing really to trigger a referral to Kitten Protection.

If I’ve picked the kits up she’s had a quick look to make sure they’re ok and then got on with eating her supper.  It’s ok that she’s not a mumsy sort of mum.  In my limited experience I’ve found that the mums who start by being quite detached often go on to care for and feed their kits quite a long while after the more involved mums have started packing the kittens sandwiches in a map and showing them the door.

This evening was quite different.  They’ve opened their eyes, but one eye on a ginger kit and another on black kit was still glued together.  I got some cooled boiled water and cotton pads and went in to bathe their eyes.  Betty was on my case, wanting to know what evidence there was that this was helpful, what possible side effects there could be, exactly what my future care plan was going to be.   I explained that a possible side effect was that the kitten could have a damp head for a few  minutes, and that we may be repeating the treatment in the morning.  Bless her.

It’s been a relief this last week to have a happier tail of kittens to tell.   Little stray, Betty, arrived with us about three weeks ago.  Some lovely caring young women had found her stray in their garden and offered temporary shelter, then got her a place at 8 Lives.   As ever we were full, but knowing that Jack was off to his smart new home in a few days time, and the weather forecast was pretty poor, we settled her into the conservatory and hoped she’d hang on to her kits until Jack was in his new home and Betty could have his bedroom.

trying to get help before coming into rescue

It’s possible that we suggested hanging on to her kits a little too strongly, as she moved into Jack’s freshly vacated bedroom and nearly a week later still hadn’t given birth.   The nightmare of Maya and her kits, and tails from other rescue friends about their young rescue cats having birth problems and needing C sections, sent us running off to see Dr Alistair.   He reassured us that apart from a few ear mites and worms, all was well and the babies would be along shortly.  Distressingly the products for worms and ear mites can’t be safely used in pregnancy, so we’d had to stand helplessly by while poor Bet clawed at her ears.

getting bigger

… and bigger

Having checked on Bet very regularly since she arrived, it was clear that last Saturday morning something was different.   She was in her little crib and quite flustered.  I’m sure she’s a first time mum – the look of confusion and pain on her face was heart breaking.  She purred a lot, and then growled, and then cried with pain … and of course glared at me thinking I was causing it.   It was a scary few moments, flashbacks to the trauma of Chi’s kittens, phone clutched in hand with vet on speed dial …. thank goodness it was Saturday morning and I was home and vets was open.

Moments later a little ginger body had arrived and was being cleaned up.  His little cries brought back the birth of Max, still so recent.  Thankfully Betty was in a much better position to care for her kits than Maya had been.  Shortly afterwards, a little more growling, and a little black and white person entered the world.   All cleaned up and sorted.    I was expecting more kits, and possibly an odd number given Bet’s size and shape.  However after a couple of hours nothing else had happened and I took my chance to go get some lunch.

first two babies

Returning about half an hour later, I heard Betty growling as I opened the door.   My first thought was that despite being sweet and friendly up to this point, she’d become very protective over her kits.   When I saw her it was clear they were more growls of pain … and very soon a little black kit made his debut, followed very swiftly by another black and white kit.   Things settled down.  All cleaned up, kits fluffed up (which made me realised just how prem Max must have been).   So I was right that she had more than two kits, but wrong about the odd number.  Sat for a long while, chatting to her and admiring them, feeding her in her bed so she didn’t have to get up and leave them.   Then went to fetch some clean bedding …. and we sat a while again, just total awe at how gorgeous and tiny and perfect they all were.  I explained what I wanted to do, about moving them a little so I could put new bedding in, but Bet laid down again on the dirty bedding, so I waited.  More growling ….. and my conviction that we were having an odd number of kits was proved correct as a tiny pale ginger kit slipped into the world.

full set of kits

So, after a night with no sleep we thought hearing that first cry might be an auditory hallucination, or a dream, or a miracle, and left us a bit dazed.   The second cry sent us scrambling into action.   The second kit had clearly gone to the bridge though her presence relieved the fear that there were unborn babes trapped inside Maya.   However the dark little head we’d seen the previous night started squirming and squeaking at our touch.   We bundled him up in fleeces and with a little wheat bag, and with one arm free, began re-making formula.

Had the heartbreaking job of burying Minim, and really not being sure how closed to leave her grave in case her brother needed to join her soon. We got a little formula into the tiny person who came to be known as Max, but it was hard to keep him warm and in the end we rushed down to the vets for help. Lovely nurse Lauren carried him around and got him warm. It dawned on us that the reason he wasn’t drying out and fluffing up like most new born kits was that he was really rather premature. He had a little fur on his back, but his front was quite naked, and his arms and legs almost translucent.

For the next 48 hours we lived and breathed little Max. Tiny tiny amounts of formula going into him, almost constant cuddles to keep him warm, and very gentle attempts to toilet him. When we had to take little Niki to her new home, our amazing child-proofer Erin and her mun Sally looked after him. The residents got on board and either through concern, cussedness or curiosity got seriously involved.

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On Sunday 1pm nurse Rosy came from the vets to check up on him … no charge, just because she cares, because she’s part of an amazing vet surgery. Max was well hydrated and despite being tiny and premmy he was doing pretty well. We made plans about day care for when I went back to work on Tuesday. It’s a weird feeling – part of me fears he won’t survive the next half hour, part of me has to worry about how to manage his care for the rest of the week.

Sally & Erin popped round in the afternoon ….. with cake. It was at that point I realised I’d not eaten since Friday evening and not had a drink since I picked Max up from Sal’s on Saturday evening. So at 3pm, Sal and Erin took Max to their’s to give me a break. Away from the anxiety of every breath of Max I had a blissful couple of hours sleep. They texted me at 5pm because he was restless and mouthing for his bottle. I scurried round to collect him,

The little guy had a good feed at 5:30 and after that I spent some time on facebook looking for more expert advice about hand rearing premmy kittens, or getting surrogate mother. Had a couple of options in the pipeline, though they would have involved a bit of a road trip for us. At 7pm Max wasn’t so interested in his feed. He’d been asleep and not shouting for food, so I wrapped him up with his fleece and wheatie bag and we settled down for cuddles until he woke up properly for a feed.

Cuddling, and typing one hand on facebook to sort out our next move, I checked down yet again on Max …….

My heart was broken ……. he’d slipped to the bridge without a word.   There’s nothing quite like the pain of a dead baby in your arms.  We’re a week on as I’m writing this, in some ways the focus has changed as we have a new pregnant kit with us, but the agony of losing this babe will be raw for a long while to come.

Maya, our lovely little Lancashire Lass had such a traumatic arrival here that we weren’t surprised she hid away at first and didn’t want to eat.  However, when she’d been here a few days and still hadn’t eaten we started to get really rather concerned and despite not wanting to put her through the distress of going back in a carrier and off to the vet, it clearly had to happen.  Conveniently Sooty had a review appointment booked with Dr Tim for Monday afternoon and said that if Maya was feeling poorly he’d be happy to let her have his slot.

Sooty isn’t always the most amenable patient, but Maya topped any challenge Sooty could present.   Although a mixture of her feeling poorly and my determination to get her to the vet had got her into the carrier, that didn’t mean she was willing to be examined once we arrived.   One option with a terrified cat who can’t be examined is to give a sedative, but this could pose a risk to her unborn kits.   However, she was clearly unwell and doing nothing wasn’t an option.   At the end of the day Maya had to take priority over any unborn kits (there was even a possibility that her swollen tummy wasn’t due to pregnancy) but just maybe we could save them all.  She had an anti biotic injection and a follow up appointment in two days for if she was feeling no better.

We came home hopeful, but Maya resolutely turned away from the offer of any food.  We’d been through the full repertoire: tuna, roast chicken, fresh cooked fish, scrambled egg, sardines, cheese, boiled ham, all manner of treats ….. and returned to the vets on Wednesday evening, at which point they admitted her.  She had some sedation, a scan which showed two kitten heartbeats inside her, a mouth with just one remaining tooth, tests which showed an infection and not surprisingly serious dehydration.  She was put on a drip and anti biotics and thankfully started to improve.  Despite the lack of teeth she began to eat to olympic standard and was clearly feeling much better.

We collected her from the vet about 6pm Friday evening – delighted that she came home and started eating, and had her anti biotic wrapped in some sardine.   I went off to feed and cuddle Jack for a while and when I returned she’d given birth.  I could just see one tiny dark kitten head near her, squawking for attention.  It was immediately clear that things weren’t quite right though … there’s normally one heck of a lot of purring going on at this stage ……. but there was nothing, other than the odd squeak from a kitten who wasn’t  getting the attention he needed.    So then another dilemma ….. I want to make sure the kitten is ok but Maya is afraid of people and maybe by my staying around its making it worse and less likely that she’ll take care of the little one.  I keep popping in to see how things are going, no sign of other kittens …… the vet said he saw at least 2 kitten heart beats …… where is the other kitten?  stuck inside her?  stopping her from being able to care for the little one who is already born?   Nearly 1am and I’m on the phone to another rescue friend with a lot more experience and decide watchful waiting is perhaps best option.  Maya is curled up near the kitten, asleep with her head on the placenta and completely ignoring him.  About 3am I make up some kitten formula, sterilize the bottles and go into her room with the intention of ‘snatching’ the kitten and starting to feed him.   He’s snuggled in the curl of her tail however and at least warm and safe near mum.  If I take him and then he smells of me, and she rejects him, he’s going to have a real uphill struggle.  I sit and watch them for a long while, neither appear in great distress and I decide to leave them be.

I crawl to bed and sleep the troubled sleep of a foster mum out of her depth.  I dream I take them somewhere and whilst I’m explaining to someone about the second kitten heartbeat and wondering where kit 2 is, Maya produces another 26 kittens in a wide variety of shapes and sizes …. one is bright blue, very fluffy and the size of Jango, another is green and gummy and resembles Ganesh, they become mixed up with the kittens in the home we visit and it turns into typical anxiety dream of trying to collect them all together into the carrier to leave.  It’s now 5am.

At 7am I go back into Maya’s room to find she’s vacated the kitten box and is in another little bed.  The little kitten I’d seen the previous night, and another kit lie still and cold in the box.   Neither have been detached from their placenta.  I’m exhausted and so so sad.  I put food out for Maya, and crawl downstairs for coffee before I can face burying the babies.   After tears and coffee I throw away the formula I’d made up in the night and start packing away the bottles, return to Maya, sorting out crushing her tablet and wrapping it in sardine.  I’m exhausted, the tablet shatters on the floor, I kneel down to look for it and I hear a kitten cry.

We had a really stressy time a few weeks ago …. what with Sooty’s girlfriend and adoptions suddenly seeming to grind to a halt.  We had Sooty to try to keep indoors, the other residents determined that they should be allowed out, plus three rescue cats all of whom wanted their own room .    Breaking point came when the weather warmed up and the seasonally available third single room aka the conservatory became uninhabitable with the door closed as it was too warm.    Despite hours of lying awake thinking through permutations of doors open and closed and who has access to what, the number of different needs within the house simply did not compute.

niki

Thankfully help arrived in the form of a lovely local foster family for Niki.   Her confidence has rocketed since she went into a cat free home, and she’s loved playing with the human kittens in her foster home.

Molly was made an offer she couldn’t refuse last weekend.   Another lovely cat free home, not far away, with a couple of servants on paw to pander to her every whim.  Go for it Molly!  You’ve had a tough time over recent months ….. claim that rug and the fire as your own.

As though that wasn’t good enough, Jack met some people last weekend and has called them back for a second interview as he’s hopeful that they may be able to offer him almost as many cuddles as he needs.

So we unexpectedly had space to offer for another poor soul who needed rescue.  Hard to describe the emotion of looking at a clean and empty bedroom, food (adult & kitten) stacked on the shelves …. just waiting …. wondering who may come next and what story will unfold in the coming weeks.

 TwistedWhiskers

Bringing you all the latest mews from 8 Lives Cat Rescue
Spring 2015

Welcome to our second 8 Lives newsletter.   We had a lovely lovely Christmas, filled with messages and photos from our previous guests, showing off their Christmas trees and presents, kittens proudly showing off how much they’d grown and what gorgeous big cats they were becoming.  All very happy and delighting in their furever homes.   You’ll notice our second newsletter is a different format from the first.  Sadly the smart and apparently free app we did the first one in said we’d exceeded our free limit, so we’re sending this as a special edition of our blog.

A flurry of re homings in the snow

You’ll be delighted to know that the two cats featured as needing homes in our previous newsletter found their furever humans between Christmas and New Year – aided by a naughty ginger kit who came to us shortly before Xmas.

Yoda

Yoda came into rescue when he couldn’t cope with the dogs who lived in his current home. He wasn’t too impressed with cats either when he first arrived, but eventually made friends with Dizzie.  One lovely lady contacted us about adopting him …. and then realised that Domino was the right cat for her.  Three months on she’s proved to be exactly right … they’re very very happy together.

Domino in her new home

and in her new garden

happy girl

Another super family contacted us to adopt Yoda, and since he was mates with Dizzie by then, they adopted the pair of them. I’m sure you’ll agree they appear very happy with this arrangement.

Dizzie & Yoda chilling in new home

Ralph and David are another story of friendship and re homing over the Christmas period. Ralph was a kit dumped on the streets in Rotherham, Dave was born on the street in Chesterfield. In rescue they teamed up to create mayhem … and a brave
family has agreed for them to move in and trash their own home 🙂

Dreamie thieves

and general

trouble causers

 Wiccan ……. the 150th cat to stay with us arrived in January

Wiccan’s story is a sad one: his human found him as a stray kitten and took him in. Then her circumstances changed, and she had to move house. Despite frantic efforts she was unable to find rented accommodation in her area that would accept cats, and the only solution was for Wiccan to come into rescue. Thankfully, he found a lovely new home very quickly.  A young woman had enquired about adopting Dizzie, just as he was packing his bags to leave with Yoda, so Wiccan jumped into his place 🙂

Pet friendly accommodation is a big issue though., and pets are one of the hidden tragedies of the recession. Of course there are people who will use house moves as an excuse to dump no longer wanted pets in rescue …… but there is a heartbreaking reality to the difficulty this causes. People can be forced into rented accommodation for a whole variety of reasons … many of them never previously anticipated – mortgaged homes repossessed following unemployment, need to move area to find employment, leaving abusive relationships, moving to care for relatives. Letting agencies normally advise landlords to not accept pets. Independent landlords mostly see animals as an unnecessary complication to the lettings. Pets …. and the humans who love them are left in impossible and heart breaking situations. There must be a better way forward ………

Our big story this quarter is “Jack”

It’s a big story for several reasons. Jack is a large and very local stray who has caused concern for some years but we’ve been unable to help previously. He’s also caused a lot of dilemmas, and been a huge surprise.  For years it felt dreadful that as a rescue we were unable to help the grubby un-neutered tom cat on our own doorstep …… though only occasionally and unpredictably. The best we could do was give him some food when we spotted him and let him go his way.

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Then one weekend in February we returned from taking a kit to her new home, started cleaning her room ready for whomever was to arrive next, looked out the window and there was Jack on the patio! Having not seen him for months I’d feared he’d not survived another winter outdoors. He’s normally allowed me to stroke him a little whilst he eats but then backed  off. Long story short, that day was different and half an hour later to my amazement he was in the recently vacated room – quite hissy and grumbly, with a filthy, greasy and soaking wet coat.

too stressed to eat

if you’re living rough …

…. white fur not the best

He went off to be neutered as soon as possible and we kept him here a couple of days after while he got over his op.  He sat fixed on the windowsill watching his allotment, stank the house out (it takes several weeks after neutering for hormones to settle and lose that tom cat aroma), hissed a greeting when we went in to feed him (though never lashed out) and would agree to some efforts to brush his horrid greasy dirty coat.  Nevertheless it seemed that we were agreed that he should return to his nomadic life as soon as possible.  Having waiting for a fine day when it wasn’t too cold and wet to release him I went into his room and sat down to judge his mood and decide whether it would be better to try to put him in a carrier and take him back over to the allotments, or easier to just open his bedroom door and the front door and usher him out.  Of course with cats things never quite go to plan, but this ran spectacularly counter to everything we’d expected. ………..

Jack leapt down from the windowsill and onto my lap, throwing his grubby smelly body against me, purring and snuggling to Olympic standard.

Jack cuddles

totally unexpected

but wonderful

…………Plan B was quickly formulated. Jack cleaned himself up and began sporting a smart collar. He reminded me more than a little of a thick-set thug wearting a shirt and tie. But he kept his collar on, and day by day his coat became more silky and handsome.

He was determined he was going to be a regular family cat, so we started the process of getting him vaccinated and ready for adoption. He had to be tested for FIV but apart from blunting the vet’s needle with his ridiculously thick skin, he co operated
completely with the process. Thankfully the test was negative.

Jack has become one of the most adorable affectionate cats ever.  He can hardly wait for me to sit down before he climbs on my lap.  He loves everyone, and shares his love equally between however many people are in his bedroom at any one time.  He’s going to make some one/family very very happy one day soon. His adoption advert is here: https://8livescatrescue.wordpress.com/jack/

Also available for adoption

Please check out our Cat Chat listings for all cats currently available for adoption: http://www.catchat.org/eightlives

molly

niki

We’re currently blessed with two of the cuddliest cats we’ve ever had in rescue.  Both Dorothy and Jack just love to snuggle and respond instantly to the cue of me sitting down in their rooms by coming over for hugs.   Both have spent years living rough prior to coming into rescue, and its sad to think how long they’ve gone without the love and affection that they crave.  Neither show any inclination to use their interactive time for play ……. its all about loves.

So we’ve spent quite a lot of the last few weeks doing furry cuddles, and reflecting on different feline snuggle styles.

Dorothy is visibly ecstatic at the prospect of a cuddle and races over to me, even if she’s not quite finished her supper .. which she loves.   She seems to prefer to lay next to me rather than on my lap.  It’s a very excited cuddle, loud high pitched purrs so insistent that every now and then she has to stop and gulp for air.  Paws waving around and frantically podding at me, little pink tongue sticking out.   She loves lots of strokes and tummy rubs, just can’t get enough fuss and snuggle time.

Jack on the other hand, casually (though instantly) lumbers down from his perch on the windowsill and onto my lap.  It’s not easy to describe what he does from there, but he kind of stands up and throws himself sideways at my chest so that I have to catch him in both arms.  Then his head comes up to butt against mine.   He leans into the cuddle, slowly purring and podding at me, until suddenly he jumps up.   Given that he hissed a lot when he first arrived and his cuddles took me by surprise, this sudden movement startled me initially ….. until I realised that its only ever so that he can throw himself at me again to get closer hugs.

Dorothy just can’t wait until she can have a home of her own and have snuggles all the time.    She finishes her vaccinations early next week and is “good to go”.  She would be a perfect addition to any sofa 🙂    Jack will also be available for adoption in the next week or two.   He’s seriously cleaning up his jacket (and making a very good job of it) ready to make a good impression on anyone interested in offering him a life of luxury.   If you could offer either of them a cuddly home please get in touch 🙂

This week has been defined by its ever shifting dilemmas:

Last weekend saw a high of us having Jack safe and indoors.   In contrast, Thursday night brought a sleepless night of Jango back and forth to the litter tray with cystitis and Sooty vomiting every hour or so – a particularly acute issue since he sleeps on my pillow.

Taking Jack indoors didn’t feel particularly like an ethical dilemma … he’s been visiting our garden as a stray for several years, is visibly neglected and at that point appeared to have a wound on his arm and was shaking.  If anything it felt like we were in the wrong for NOT taking him in before … a cat rescue taking in cats from all over the county and beyond, but not helping the stray in the yard.   The practicalities and his rare appearances had made it impossible before as his visits can be months apart.  The chances of this co inciding with us having a rescue room free … something which happens for usually less than 24 hours every few weeks.

However, we were depriving him of his liberty and planning to take him to be neutered.   Facebook groups throw up many vehement comments about neutering ……. “how would you feel if you weren’t allowed to have children?”  Let’s not even go there just now.  We can live with that charge.  Jack is a cat not a human daddy, biologically driven to reproduce, but with little desire to see it through from taking paternity leave to paying university fees and beyond.  Gorgeous as any baby Jacklets might be …. there really are too many already born kits out there needing homes.

What did make it more complicated though was a response to my post in a local forum about Jack saying that they thought he ‘belonged’  to an elderly man who was struggling to take care of himself, never mind the cat.  Ah!  So he could be ‘owned’ by someone who may be very attached to him, though clearly wasn’t caring for him adequately.   So which is more important?  The human’s attachment or the cat’s care?   In an ideal situation, perhaps our rescue could help support the man in caring for Jack, but what if he just demanded him back and refused help?  That got resolved by the lovely people on the allotments tracing the old guy and finding that Jack did not belong to him.

So Jack goes off to be neutered and health checked and the wound on his arm is found to be a mixture of torn claw and some sort of non-specific pink stain.  He’s ok, chipped so if he’s found to not be ok he can find his way back to us.   Is it ok to still deprive him of his liberty and keep him in the rescue room?  Equally, is it ok to put him back outside given that he doesn’t have someone specifically to care for him?  Is it better to put him back outside in the area he knows or to try to find somewhere else – unfamiliar but with someone who will look out for him?  How on earth to weigh these factors up?

Hmm … so we decide to just let things settle, wait a while, see how it pans out with Jack being indoors, if we might be able to get a very local home for him where he can revert to living out on the allotments if he chooses to.  Jack sits on the windowsill all day most days, hisses when we come in to the room but calms down once he realises who it is, and enjoys being brushed and stroked.

However, then Wednesday evening  Jango, one of our resident boys, doesn’t seem right, and Thursday night is on and off the litter tray with what we believe is stress induced cystitis all night.  Is it fair to put our residents through this distress in order to help a stray cat?  Hugely protective of Jango, painfully responsible for Jack.   Which is more important?  Will it get better as the tom cat smell subsides after neutering?  Could Jang’s problem become more acute?  And, as a bit of an afterthought … what about my needs to sleep and the impact on my patients in my day job when I’ve had no sleep?

Friday Jango goes to the vet and his bladder starts to settle a bit.   Jack continues to hiss when we go into his room.  Wouldn’t it be easier just to put him back on the allotments?  He’s neutered now which will be better for his health in several ways, we know he’s not unwell, his arm is now fine, and he’s chipped to us so if he’s found unwell at some point we can be contacted and review things.   Seriously, what can be the long term plan for a scruffy old tom cat?  Is he “bed blocking”?  Will it take so long to get him sorted that so many other needy cats are unable to have the rescue place?   Wouldn’t he rather have his freedom again?  And the weather is getting a little warmer…. we checked the forecast.

Saturday lunchtime we go into Jack’s room to try to think it through.   Mostly its about thinking whether it would be better to put him in the carrier and take him to the allotments, or to open his bedroom door, and our front door, and shoo him out.   He hisses and yowls his greeting as usual.    Then something unusual happens:  Jack shuffles down from his place on the windowsill, and straight onto my lap …… and for the first time whilst here, starts to purr…… his hand up on my shoulder and face rubbing against mine.  Someone made of sterner stuff may be able to brush this aside and carry on with Plan A …… I however melted like putty in his paws …… so we’re now trying to work out Plan B.

To be fair … cat rescue is always a little unpredictable, but this afternoon’s events were well outside of our plans.

We took Sugar off to her new home this morning.  That was pretty much as expected.   Her new daddy had come to meet her last weekend, and she’d obviously taken a shine to him …. so it was no surprise  when she went in quite happily and started playing with all the lovely toys he’d got for her.

sad

wet

refusing to go in shelter

I came home and started cleaning Sug’s room … there were a couple of cats who were possibly coming in in the next few days so I wanted to have it ready.   Then glanced out the door and there was Jack sitting in the little shelter we have on the patio!  Only the most avid of our readers will recognise the significance of this.  For the other 99.9% of you here’s a little catch up:

Jack is a long term stray who has visited our garden periodically over more years than I want to remember.  He’s never been predictable enough to trap, or confident enough to just come in.  In some ways he’s been a very professional stray cat, maintaining a number of feeding people around the area, never staying long enough to put down roots.  We put a couple of little shelters in the garden a few years ago in the hope that Jack would find some warmth and comfort in there.  The permanent residents use them frequently whilst Jack has resolutely shunned them and stood in the rain to eat.  It’s bothered me that we take in cats from all over the county and sometimes beyond whilst we’ve been unable to help the guy in our garden.  He’s normally filthy, very often soaking wet with the rain and occasionally bearing minor wounds.   My fear has been that if I make a random grab for him – given that he’s not around enough to set a trap – we could just end up scaring him off permanently.   He’s tolerated being stroked whilst eating, but left rather abruptly at any sign of a firmer hold.

lovely lad

Ok ….. up to speed now.  Delighted to see him in the shelter at last and grabbed some food to take out to him.  Anxious to realise he was limping to his dish and trembling, and pushed to try a little harder to help.  Stroked him whilst he ate, and experimented with picking him up.  It wasn’t a popular move, but it wasn’t disastrous as it had been previously.  Back indoors to ponder what our next move would be …. maybe if he was around tomorrow … maybe one day, maybe never.    Spotted the top opening carrier in the conservatory.  No way would he hang around whilst I took that outside, opened it etc.   Only he did.   Out of the question that I could try picking him up a second time and then get him into the carrier.  Only it wasn’t.   And Sugar’s bedroom was recently vacated and cleaned.

indoors at last

So he’s here.  The cat we’ve worried about for years and felt helpless to care for, went from “out there somewhere” to inside safe, warm and dry within the space of about 15 minutes.   Of course there’s a thousand and one questions about his health and his future and a fair bit of angst about that.  But for now …….