Catarang
Romeo's back. Again. I'm cat-sitting for a week while his owner takes care of a family emergency in New York. I'm being paid for his boarding and he's a delight to have. He stays in the main house during the day and the granny flat at night. Jane suggested I nickname him "Catarang" because he keeps coming back.
I was scheduled for an extra shift at the adoption center this month. Today was not a good day--no adoptions, just people window-shopping, and I had to put on my "cat nazi" hat once.
A woman comes in with her two daughters, one about ten and one about three.
Strike One: The first thing out of this woman's mouth is, "Are they all declawed?" The second thing out of her mouth is, "I adopted this cat some time ago, and he's gotten real big. I don't know if he has his shots or not. Where can I take him to get his shots and get him declawed?"
Strike Two: The three-year-old sticks her hands, up to the elbows, into Savannah's cage (remember Savannah, the gorgeous but cranky Snowshoe/Siamese mix?). Savannah bites her. I warn the mother. Mother ignores me. Daughter sticks hands in cage again. Savannah bites her again. I repeat my warning and am ignored. Child sticks hands in a third time and is bitten. Mother finally chastises child. Child throws a screaming tantrum and then runs rampant through the adoption center, pounding on anything she can hit with her little fists.
Strike Three: We're discussing not declawing her cat. Turns out she just bought a new suede sofa the cat shows no interest in whatsoever, and she wants him declawed "just in case." Also, "My husband is extremely protective of my youngest and I'm afraid he'll do something to the cat if he hurts her. She's a real hellion with animals."
Hey, you had my "no" answer at Strike One. Anyway, the woman looks at the cage cards and says, "Seventy dollars. I'll take that one." I suggest, mildly, that she might not be ready to adopt yet. Somebody else asks me a question and while I'm answering that, the three-year-old throws a grand-mal tantrum and the woman storms out. I think it's over.
Then half an hour later, she comes back, sans three-year-old, and points to another cat. "I'll take that one."
Now I have to say no. She stares at me like I've lost my mind and says, "Are you refusing to give me a cat?"
I say, "I'm concerned for the welfare of the animal."
"For the welfare of the ANIMAL?"
I'm almost ashamed of how mild I am at this point. I just smile and offer my name and the name of who's in charge, then hand her the Cat Coordinator's card. The woman rips the card out of my hand and storms off. The Kennel Coordinator (who's on the Board of Directors, but who doesn't want to confront the woman either) watches this whole thing, then later suggests I give the Cat Coordinator a heads-up. I call her.
I kinda wish I could have heard that conversation when that woman calls. If I could have done it over again, I would have hauled the mother and her three-year-old out of the adoption center the first time Savannah bit the kid and they ignored my warning. Must not have been much of a bite.
I feel very sorry for the cat this woman already owns.
I was scheduled for an extra shift at the adoption center this month. Today was not a good day--no adoptions, just people window-shopping, and I had to put on my "cat nazi" hat once.
A woman comes in with her two daughters, one about ten and one about three.
Strike One: The first thing out of this woman's mouth is, "Are they all declawed?" The second thing out of her mouth is, "I adopted this cat some time ago, and he's gotten real big. I don't know if he has his shots or not. Where can I take him to get his shots and get him declawed?"
Strike Two: The three-year-old sticks her hands, up to the elbows, into Savannah's cage (remember Savannah, the gorgeous but cranky Snowshoe/Siamese mix?). Savannah bites her. I warn the mother. Mother ignores me. Daughter sticks hands in cage again. Savannah bites her again. I repeat my warning and am ignored. Child sticks hands in a third time and is bitten. Mother finally chastises child. Child throws a screaming tantrum and then runs rampant through the adoption center, pounding on anything she can hit with her little fists.
Strike Three: We're discussing not declawing her cat. Turns out she just bought a new suede sofa the cat shows no interest in whatsoever, and she wants him declawed "just in case." Also, "My husband is extremely protective of my youngest and I'm afraid he'll do something to the cat if he hurts her. She's a real hellion with animals."
Hey, you had my "no" answer at Strike One. Anyway, the woman looks at the cage cards and says, "Seventy dollars. I'll take that one." I suggest, mildly, that she might not be ready to adopt yet. Somebody else asks me a question and while I'm answering that, the three-year-old throws a grand-mal tantrum and the woman storms out. I think it's over.
Then half an hour later, she comes back, sans three-year-old, and points to another cat. "I'll take that one."
Now I have to say no. She stares at me like I've lost my mind and says, "Are you refusing to give me a cat?"
I say, "I'm concerned for the welfare of the animal."
"For the welfare of the ANIMAL?"
I'm almost ashamed of how mild I am at this point. I just smile and offer my name and the name of who's in charge, then hand her the Cat Coordinator's card. The woman rips the card out of my hand and storms off. The Kennel Coordinator (who's on the Board of Directors, but who doesn't want to confront the woman either) watches this whole thing, then later suggests I give the Cat Coordinator a heads-up. I call her.
I kinda wish I could have heard that conversation when that woman calls. If I could have done it over again, I would have hauled the mother and her three-year-old out of the adoption center the first time Savannah bit the kid and they ignored my warning. Must not have been much of a bite.
I feel very sorry for the cat this woman already owns.