(no subject)
saturday night, one of our cats, mona, was going nuts because there was a random cat in our backyard yowling. i went out and tried to chase it off. it was very dark but i could tell that she had a collar. i flapped my arms around and shouted, ‘go home! nobody here is going to fuck you!’ and she retreated to the alley.
my neighbors already think i’m odd.
ten minutes later, more yowling. this time just at the bottom of my stoop. so i go out and i kneel and start making nice, hoping she’ll get close enough that i can tell if there’s a tag attached to that collar. hoping that i can call someone or march over to wherever she’s from and give someone an earful about their unspayed, free-roaming cat. and she comes right to me. she’s very, very thin. and she stinks. and the collar is running under her left front arm, bandolier-style. and it’s embedded. the stink is infection.
i call for erik. tell him to hurry. and bring a flashlight.
it’s a good-sized cat, or at least it would be if it weren’t starved. i’m petting its matted fur and it’s looking at me with big, pleading eyes. but it’s not running. even when we cut the cheap purple collar and pull it out of the sticky, fetid wound, the pathetic creature flinches and yowls but it doesn’t run.
it’s late when all this happens, eleven-thirty or better. and although our vet will come in after hours or on sundays, he asks that it be a life-threatening situation. although it’s obvious that the cat’s going to need medical attention, i’m certain that it’ll make it til monday. we decide that it can’t come in the house because god knows what infectious diseases it may be harboring and we have two other cats and two dogs. luckily, due to a complicated set of circumstances, the apartment in our basement is currently vacant. and there’s still heat and light down there. so i set the creature (which i’m now pretty sure is a boy, and i’m calling rex) up with some kibble, a bowl of water, a makeshift litterbox, and an old blanket. we go down and visit every few hours and he seems to be getting along okay, cleaning the would and hardly limping at all.
we decide that on monday i'll take him to the pound. we don't need another cat. we decide that we'll let the pound either fix him up and adopt him out or, if they decide it's more realistic, put him down. we talk it over and decide that, really, we've done enough. with the exception of erik's dalmation, all our pets were charity cases. it's someone else's turn.
...
first thing this morning i caught e on the phone. the vet said he could squeeze him in this afternoon. i'll let you know how it goes.
my neighbors already think i’m odd.
ten minutes later, more yowling. this time just at the bottom of my stoop. so i go out and i kneel and start making nice, hoping she’ll get close enough that i can tell if there’s a tag attached to that collar. hoping that i can call someone or march over to wherever she’s from and give someone an earful about their unspayed, free-roaming cat. and she comes right to me. she’s very, very thin. and she stinks. and the collar is running under her left front arm, bandolier-style. and it’s embedded. the stink is infection.
i call for erik. tell him to hurry. and bring a flashlight.
it’s a good-sized cat, or at least it would be if it weren’t starved. i’m petting its matted fur and it’s looking at me with big, pleading eyes. but it’s not running. even when we cut the cheap purple collar and pull it out of the sticky, fetid wound, the pathetic creature flinches and yowls but it doesn’t run.
it’s late when all this happens, eleven-thirty or better. and although our vet will come in after hours or on sundays, he asks that it be a life-threatening situation. although it’s obvious that the cat’s going to need medical attention, i’m certain that it’ll make it til monday. we decide that it can’t come in the house because god knows what infectious diseases it may be harboring and we have two other cats and two dogs. luckily, due to a complicated set of circumstances, the apartment in our basement is currently vacant. and there’s still heat and light down there. so i set the creature (which i’m now pretty sure is a boy, and i’m calling rex) up with some kibble, a bowl of water, a makeshift litterbox, and an old blanket. we go down and visit every few hours and he seems to be getting along okay, cleaning the would and hardly limping at all.
we decide that on monday i'll take him to the pound. we don't need another cat. we decide that we'll let the pound either fix him up and adopt him out or, if they decide it's more realistic, put him down. we talk it over and decide that, really, we've done enough. with the exception of erik's dalmation, all our pets were charity cases. it's someone else's turn.
...
first thing this morning i caught e on the phone. the vet said he could squeeze him in this afternoon. i'll let you know how it goes.