Meet Darth Vader
C., one of my co-workers at the library volunteers at the county animal shelter, where I adopted Hal. The other day she told me that there was a respiratory infection making the rounds among the kitties, and that the shelter was short on money, food, and litter. Yesterday I went to Wal-Mart to pick up a few bags of cat food, and then went to the shelter to drop them off. (It was about 3:15 when I got there; adoption time ends at 4.)
C. and her husband were out front. C. told me that it had been decided to put down a bunch of the cats, I guess due to the infection and the budget constraints, and that if I wanted to rescue someone, I should rescue Darth Vader, as they had already pulled the card off his cage. They had planned to put him down Friday, but decided to give him the weekend to see if anyone wanted him.
You may remember me mentioning how full and happy the kitty room was when I got Hal back in July. When I walked into the kitty room yesterday, there were maybe, I dunno, six or seven? cats there. A few were sneezing, but they were all active and basically healthy. C. introduced me to Darth Vader, a beautiful declawed, laid-back Exotic Shorthair (more or less) with all black fur and green eyes. I haven't met a kitty this mellow since my first cat, Casey.
For a time (0.68 seconds) I worried about him being declawed around a clawed kitty, and the fact that I'd just discovered fleas on Mystra, and whether he was going to pass the infection to her. But that's what bedroom doors, FrontLine, and antibiotics are for. My apartment is a better place for him. There was no fucking way I was going to let this cat die. His name is Darth Vader, for Christ's sake. I told C. I was going to take him home. I was ready to adopt him if that's what I needed to do, but she said I had the option of fostering him for a few weeks to get him healthy, to buy some time and find him a home. So I filled out the foster kitty papers and hauled his ass out of there in a borrowed carrier. I am so incredibly glad I stopped by when I did. Poor kitty.
I'll be calling the vet Monday to get Vader checked out. He sneezes a lot, but antibiotics will clear that right up. He's no trouble at all. The declawed-ness isn't an issue. He stays away from Mystra, and Mystra stays away from him. He sleeps a lot, and purrs a lot. (Hal is with broodingfool and Beast this week.)
So. Pictures!
Lord Vader sleeps
Lord Vader sleeps on the back of the couch. Never mind his name, I have throw pillows more menacing than he is.
Flash-Vader
His fur is so thick that it "breaks" like sheep's wool. Note the light grey undercoat.
Face-hance!
Black kittehs are bloody hard to photograph.
He doesn't like to be picked up, and isn't much of a lap cat, but he loves - and I mean LOVES - to be petted. If I stop petting him, he'll paw at my hand and/or face until I start again.
C. and her husband were out front. C. told me that it had been decided to put down a bunch of the cats, I guess due to the infection and the budget constraints, and that if I wanted to rescue someone, I should rescue Darth Vader, as they had already pulled the card off his cage. They had planned to put him down Friday, but decided to give him the weekend to see if anyone wanted him.
You may remember me mentioning how full and happy the kitty room was when I got Hal back in July. When I walked into the kitty room yesterday, there were maybe, I dunno, six or seven? cats there. A few were sneezing, but they were all active and basically healthy. C. introduced me to Darth Vader, a beautiful declawed, laid-back Exotic Shorthair (more or less) with all black fur and green eyes. I haven't met a kitty this mellow since my first cat, Casey.
For a time (0.68 seconds) I worried about him being declawed around a clawed kitty, and the fact that I'd just discovered fleas on Mystra, and whether he was going to pass the infection to her. But that's what bedroom doors, FrontLine, and antibiotics are for. My apartment is a better place for him. There was no fucking way I was going to let this cat die. His name is Darth Vader, for Christ's sake. I told C. I was going to take him home. I was ready to adopt him if that's what I needed to do, but she said I had the option of fostering him for a few weeks to get him healthy, to buy some time and find him a home. So I filled out the foster kitty papers and hauled his ass out of there in a borrowed carrier. I am so incredibly glad I stopped by when I did. Poor kitty.
I'll be calling the vet Monday to get Vader checked out. He sneezes a lot, but antibiotics will clear that right up. He's no trouble at all. The declawed-ness isn't an issue. He stays away from Mystra, and Mystra stays away from him. He sleeps a lot, and purrs a lot. (Hal is with broodingfool and Beast this week.)
So. Pictures!
Lord Vader sleeps
Lord Vader sleeps on the back of the couch. Never mind his name, I have throw pillows more menacing than he is.
Flash-Vader
His fur is so thick that it "breaks" like sheep's wool. Note the light grey undercoat.
Face-hance!
Black kittehs are bloody hard to photograph.
He doesn't like to be picked up, and isn't much of a lap cat, but he loves - and I mean LOVES - to be petted. If I stop petting him, he'll paw at my hand and/or face until I start again.