From: Be Blessed!

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Be Blessed!

hi man!)) so close))

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It's a new day, Honey!

     It's always wonderful to have a success story!

     Honey's story (my part of it anyway) began a couple of weeks ago, when Feline Network got a call from a man in Avila Village. A female cat had been hanging around for a long time, crying and wanting attention—and undoubtedly wanting food! His reasons for not feeding this poor creature were convoluted. Who knows why people do—or don't do—what they do? It's inexplicable at times. In this case, something to do with the fact that he and his wife already had three indoor cats, there were health issues involved, and somehow putting out a bowl of food now and then was too much. Believe me, for anyone not already involved in animal rescue, the hardest part is dealing with the humans!

      After getting the call about the cat, I literally was at the guy's house in under an hour with food and water to set up a feeding station where I could trap the cat later. But I was greeted with the homeowner telling me he had 'bad news.' According to him, the next door neighbor had called Animal Rescue and they had arrived half an hour ahead of me and taken the cat.

       Now Animal Rescue is not often a good deal for ferals or, as was the case with this cat, abandoned or lost domestic cats who have become shy, skittish, or aggressive due to the trauma of their lives on the street. The sad fact is few of them get adopted and most of them get destroyed.

      After talking to some folks at Feline Network and getting the cat's i.d. number from Animal Services, it was arranged that the cat would be released to me in a few days. This past Friday, I went to Animal Services, where the people were extremely kind and efficient and turned the little brown and gold kitty over to me. Knowing she was going to be released to me, they had given her shots and shaved her belly in preparation for her spay, only to find a spay scar. So she was definitely either a lost cat or an abandoned one.

     I drove straight up to Santa Marguerita and met with T.C., the wonderful woman who runs a cat sanctuary. Most of T.C.'s cats are ferals, but she will consider any cat who is in a difficult situation. T.C. asked me the cat's name, and I didn't have one, so we decided on Honey.

      For Honey, the good news is she will have plenty to eat for the rest of her days, a warm shelter to curl up in with her cat buddies and, if she wants human contact, volunteers who will visit. She won't be alone on the street anymore and she will never be hungry.

     I tapped the top of her carrier as I got out of the car and said, "It's a new day, Honey!"

     Later on, I thought how sometimes, when I get stuck in life, I wish someone would come along and do that for me, tap my shoulder and tell me 'it's a new day, Lucy" But it is a new day, every day, full of new options and fresh opportunities if I choose to take them. It's a lesson from Honey that I need to learn and remember.

Second Chance for Pismo and Scooter!

    The Adopt-A-Pet over this past weekend was a resounding success, with several adoptions! Most exciting for me was that Scooter and Pismo, the two little tabby striped boys whom I fostered for a few weeks found their "Forever Home" for the second time. Not that losing their first one was the boys' fault at all. P and S are the most adorable little guys and true extroverts. Given a little time, I know they would have been rearranging the furniture in my living room and hanging from the chandelier (if I had one), but their first adoptive mother decided the risk from coyotes where she lived was too great and brought the boys back.

      Coyotes—the bugaboo of the kitty adoption process. There are various viewpoints on coyotes. I personally think the danger they pose is often overrated, although it is obviously a good idea to keep cats inside if at all possible. That being said, my own cats have indoor/outdoor privileges—which basically means they come and go as they choose, at least during daylight hours.

       In any case, though, Pismo and Scooter had to go through two more Adopt-A-pets before a wonderful family from Ojai—with a ten-year-old girl who loves cats—decided to adopt them. "They were stellar," reports the Feline Network volunteer who was at the Adopt-A-Pet and saw the boys being introduced to their new family. "They obviously wanted to go home with these folks, and they did!"

                      

The Sweetness of Shy Kitties

     Grey Beard and Tigger are two little boys born to a feral mom in Arroyo Grande. When rescuers from Feline Network found them and their siblings, the kittens were living amid the boards of a tumbled down fence. Their prospects for any kind of life at all were bleak. But they were trapped, spay/neutered, and sent to foster homes for loving care and socialization. Two of these guys, Grey Beard and Tigger, got adopted today at age 14 weeks. They are beautiful boys, each one several shades of grey overlaid with intricate black stripes. Grey Beard, when he was found, had a serious eye infection and it was thought he would probably lose his eye—thus caregiver Anna decided to give him a pirate's name as befitting a one-eyed adventurer.  Miraculously, however, the eye healed. Now Grey Beard can see just fine, although he hung onto his swashbuckling name.

 

        But Grey Beard, Tigger, and their sibs are still feral born kitties. They don't hiss or spit or bite, but they are shy souls, to whom the noisy and chaotic world of humans is always just a little bit intimidating. Today when Anna and I took the two boys to meet their new parents, we explained that these guys have a more introverted nature. They will be wonderful cuddly lap cats, but probably never 'tear the house down' as some more extroverted kittens will do.  In their new environment, Tigger immediately scooted under a bench; from there he very cautiously peeked out to meet the elderly chihuahua who will be 'big brother.'  Grey Beard curled up in his new mom's arms and stayed there, calm and content, but not in any great hurry to rush off and explore this new world.

 

      Tigger and Grey Beard's new mom and dad are delighted with their boys and couldn't be happier. It's a reminder that with a little patience, shy, quiet kitties can be adorable, lovable animal companions.

Pismo and Scooter Need A Home

   These two adorable little boys just love to play, to purr, and to cuddle! They are so sweet and fun to watch and get along great with other cats. Please help them find their forever home!

 

Pismo and Scooter Need A Home VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL This album has 1 photo and will be available on SkyDrive until 10/25/2011.

The Great Skunk Rescue!

      Life is really strange. If someone had told me on Monday that on Tuesday morning at 7 a.m., I would be climbing into a hazmat suit and hardhat and signing a waiver to a local oil company promising not to sue them if I got injured, I would've said you were crazy. No way could such a thing happen!

     But it did.

     I've been helping the good folks at a local oil drilling site trap and neuter some feral cats. They set the traps at a location far up a dirt road, drop the cats off at a local vet; then I do the pick up and return the next morning. Only this particular morning, they had caught a skunk!  And not one of these big burly oil field guys wanted anything to do with such a harrowing mission, so they called me to come deal with the situation.

      Now I've trapped skunks before, and it's no fun. My heart always sinks a little when I peek under the towel covering the trap and see that little black and white critter with its tail up, getting ready to spray. It does stink, no two ways about it.

      The unfortunate part of this particular situation was one, whomever set the trap had not covered it with a towel (this is SO important because it keeps the cat/raccoon/skunk/whatever from being so frightened it injures itself) and two, they'd set the trap in a shed with only one door, so conceivably the skunk and I would be racing each other for a single exit. 

      Before I could undertake this hazardous task, however, I had to put on the helmet and the hazmat suit and sign the waiver. Actually the biggest danger was that I would trip and break my neck because the suit was designed for someone about a foot taller than I am and I kept stepping on the pant legs. Anyway, three of us drove out to this shed and there was the poor skunk, a young skunk from the looks of him, rattling around in the trap. I went in, threw the tarp I keep in my car over the trap, lifted the slider and ran back outside. The skunk, I was told, emerged later and scurried off into the woods.

      I was also told that one of the oil workers who observed all this remarked in amazement, "She just walked right in. She wasn't scared at all."  Wow, wish I could always impress people this easily!

      So the skunk was freed, the trapper was only slightly 'skunkified', and all ended happily.

      However, I must add there are two traps out at the same site tonight and I will be really, really happy if tomorrow morning I don't get a call that they've caught another skunk!

In Memory Of Jake

     I first met Jake about  a year ago, when I was trapping a feral colony living at a local trailer park. The kind-hearted managers of the park fed the colony, but were aware that they

would soon be overwhelmed if the cats continued to reproduce.  Jake was a big, beautiful Siamese Tom, whose people had abandoned him and who lived outside with the feral colony. He was one of the first ones to be neutered and returned. The trailer park managers clearly loved him very much and he would allow them to pet him, but he lived the life of a feral kitty.

      Two days ago, I got a call from Jake's 'mom'—let's call her Anne—she was obviously very upset and said she thought Jake had been hit by a car. His legs were smashed up and he had been missing for an entire week, during which time Anne and her husband – Bob, let's call him – searched for him. Now Jake was back and obviously badly injured. She asked me what they should do.

      Now IF I had been thinking more clearly, IF I could do it over again, I guess the obvious response would be this: take him immediately to your vet. If you don't have a vet, I can recommend one. But I didn't think that clearly. I could hear Jake crying in the background. Somehow I assumed they didn't have a carrier for him, although they hadn't said this. Never-the-less, I told them I'd be over at once with a carrier. I went into high alert, that place I go when an animal emergency arises. Nothing mattered but to get Jake to the doctor. I called my own vet, and got the okay to bring Jake in. I arrived at the park and found Jake already in a carrier, ready to go.

       As I walked out with Jake in the carrier,—this part breaks my heart—Bob put his hand on my shoulder and said "God bless you."

       At the clinic, the vet came out and sat with me after examining Jake. He told me Jake had broken legs and a broken pelvis and a deep infection in the wounds. He was in shock. I asked if he was "salvageable." The vet replied that he would need at least one operation, then visits to a specialist followed by months of rehabilitation—indoors.  I told the vet Jake was an outdoor cat. The vet recommended euthanasia.

       I wanted Bob and Anne to hear this from the vet himself, so I called them at once. They didn't pick up. I left a message explaining the situation, saying to please call back immediately.  I asked the vet if he could keep Jake until I heard from Anne and Bob. Then I headed off to pick up a pair of cats I'd caught the night before, who'd been neutered, and were awaiting pick up. On the way back, I called Bob and Anne again and again got their machine. I was feeling frantic. Jake was waiting. Somewhere in the urgency of the moment, I decided my priorities were wrong—this was about Jake, not about Bob and Anne. I called one more time. I got the answering machine. I explained that since I hadn't heard from them, I was going to go ahead and give permission to have Jake euthanized.

       At the time, it seemed like the right, the compassionate, decision. Doesn't it always?

       Later that morning I got calls from both Bob and Anne. Anne sounded distraught, she'd called the vet too late, and Jake was gone. She asked me if it was "about the money" and I told her no, we hadn't talked of money at all, we're just talked about Jake's injuries.  I offered to have the vet talk with her, but she said what for, Jake was gone.

       I felt devastated. As if I'd willfully murdered Jake. I thought of a hundred what's if's and why didn't I's. When I couldn't reach Bob and Anne, why didn't I drive back to the trailer park and look for them? I could have found them. I know they were there. But I didn't. Somehow I took the fact that I couldn't reach them on the phone for proof that this situation was now in my hands. And how had it come to be 'in my hands?' I didn't know. Why hadn't one of them come with me to the vet? I didn't know. All I knew was that Jake was dead and I had made that decision when maybe it wasn't mine to make. And yet I know Jake was in pain. I know the vet told me euthanasia was the kindest choice.

       A lot of stuff comes up for me where animals are concerned. I have watched people weep over the death of parents and felt little beyond polite sympathy for their pain.  I get it, but on a deeper level, because I've never felt that kind of love for a parent, no, I don't really 'get' it. I just kind of pretend that I do. But when someone cries over the loss of an animal, it brings up the pain of every cat and dog I've ever lost and all the dread and terror of losses that are sure to come, a tsunami of grief that inundates me so completely I feel like I'm drowning in it. The suffering clogs my throat, and I can't breathe.

       I called the vet, explained the situation, and he called Bob and Anne. I hope whatever he said to them mitigated their pain, but I doubt it. I know if I ever handed one of my cats off to another person and somehow it evolved that that was the last time I saw my cat alive, I would be grief-stricken beyond words. But I can't imagine doing that. I can't imagine not going with the person to the vet. I can't imagine not being glued to my phone. I can't imagine...

       In the end, of course, the only one that's important in this story is Jake. Jake got hit by a car and was terribly injured and died in as humane a manner as possible under the circumstances, and I gave the go-ahead for his death.  And I can't ask for his understanding or for his forgiveness. And I have to live with that.

Kitten Season in High Gear!

      Good news! Of the three kittens that were trapped at Halcyon and Grand Avenue, the little boy went off to a good home this past weekend. The two little girls are still with their foster mom Jamie and will be going to the adopt-a-pet soon. More kittens have been trapped in Nipomo and are headed off to a foster home here in Pismo (not mine, however, my seven guys really object to the patter of little kitten feet around the house!)

       I still have not been able to trap mom over at Halcyon/Grand, although many attempts have been made. Nothing more disappointing than showing up to check my traps at 6 a.m. and finding neither of them sprung, the bait food swarming with ants. So the next plan is to fasten a trap open, using grocery ties, and let the homeowner put mom's food inside the trap for a week or two until she gets used to going in. Then we set it for real and, hopefully, put an end to her kitten-producing career.

      A gentleman from up on the Mesa emailed Feline Network to ask for help with a female cat he has been trying, unsuccessfully, to trap for some time now. I'm going to give it a shot and start trapping for her next week.

      And I was able to help out a kind man who's been feeding a neighborhood stray, a male cat he's named Jack. Jack got neutered on Friday and went to his new home to lead a safer, more settled, and probably longer life now that he won't be out fighting with the other Toms.

      Finally, my own Little Dude got his bloodwork back the other day. From having virtually NO calcium at all in his little body and having bones so brittle they fractured for no reason at all, he now has calcium levels in the HIGH normal range! This is a miracle and Dr. Conn at Cat and Exotic Care gets credit for finding the magic formula that made it happen.

Kitten #3 Goes To Foster Home

     A couple of weeks ago I wrote about a couple of beautiful little tuxedo kittens, about five weeks old, that I trapped over in Arroyo Grande at a house on Halcyon. I said at the time they were two little girls. It turns out, they're a girl and a boy, and over the weekend they got a surprise--their sibling, a solid black kitty that I trapped on Friday night, came to live with them.

      This little guy (I'll call him a 'he' though I don't really know what he is; hard to tell when they're so little) was one of the feistiest kittens I've ever seen. He hissed, he spit, he ran around his cage and climbed the bars trying to find a way out. Then when that didn't work, he cried for mom. When that didn't work either, he finally let me pick him up and hold him, but he wiggled and squirmed the entire time, just waiting for a chance to jump free and go racing off into another zip code. It's really difficult on young kittens being alone and this guy was really missing mom, so on Sunday he went off to join his brother and sister at their foster home in San Luis, becoming socialized and getting big enough to be spay/neutered and go on to the Adopt-A-Pet and, hopefully, their forever homes.

       The priority now is to trap mom before she has a chance to get pregnant again and start the whole cycle over.

                                                                                                              *

     Update on the Little Dude: The Dude is doing great now that his calcium numbers are within normal range. Last night, I was eating edamame, those wonderful Japanese green beans, out of a bowl and the Dude came to check out what I had, as he always does (he is a foodie, no question about it). Suddenly he dipped his little head into the  bowl, grabbed an edamame and ran off with it like he'd just committed grand theft! He seemed so pleased with himself and spent the next hour batting that green bean around the living room floor, having more fun than I've ever seen him have with a PetCo or PetSmart bought cat toy.

     And this morning, I found him sitting on a chair in the dining room, a spot that previously would have been completely beyond his ability to reach. I'm amazed and thrilled that he's able to jump that high! His progress is truly remarkable. In the meantime, I'm going to the store to replenish our stock of edamame.

    

Great News For The Dude!

 

     It's now the middle of May, more than four months into the Little Dude's treatment to get his calcium levels into the normal range. He's been going to the vet every week to have blood drawn. Slowly, his calcium levels have risen, but still remained always in the abnormally low range.

     Until yesterday. Yesterday I took the Dude (aka Doodles) to see Dr. Conn at Cat and Exotic Care in Pismo Beach. He had his blood drawn and this time, the news was wonderful! The Dude's blood calcium level is now 9.3 with normal range being 7.8 - 11.3. This is up from 7.7 a few weeks ago. The Dude is now taking .75cc of calcitriol by mouth twice a day and 2.8 cc of calcium glubionate twice a day, which means his little body is being flooded with calcium. Numbers like this may seem like pretty dry fare for a blog, but I'm including them on the off chance that someone somewhere may one day be reading this who has encountered a similar problem. Dr. Conn has only been able to locate one other case similar to the Dude's, and this is after lengthy research and consulting other vets. There simply isn't much known about this situation where a cat has a calcium deficiency so severe as to be life-threatening.

      But at this point we seem to have turned a corner.

      Not only are the Dude's numbers way up, but he has made amazing progress in his physical abilities.  Last night before I went to bed, I was looking around for him and couldn't find him. This is not unusual. Like many cats, the Dude has magical powers and can become invisible at will, only to reappear instantly when the top of a can of wet cat food is popped. Anyway I checked in the garage, because he sometimes like to hang out there. At the back of the garage is a very large cat tree that stands about my height, 5'5" of so, and I saw a little black face looking out at me. At first I thought it had to be either Sister Bug or Little Mom, my two other solid black cats. Then I realized it was the Dude! Out of the blue, he had decided it was time to climb a cat tree!

     I am thrilled by his progress and I think the Dude's pretty thrilled with it, too. He has gone from being an undernourished abandoned kitten on the Mesa with serious health problems to a plump, happy young adult kitty whose health issues appear to be under control.

     Of course nothing can be taken for granted, and no one knows what the Dude's future may hold. He will probably never be a totally 'normal' cat. That's okay. He's a great little guy who has enriched my life enormously and does so on a daily basis. And when I tell him, "It's Doodles Day!" I know he totally agrees.

These Girls Have Bright Futures!

       About a month ago I got a call from a man in Arroyo Grande whom I'd met on a few previous occasions--he's a kind person who feeds the neighborhood ferals and wanted help getting them spay-neutered. I'd trapped five, but missed out on a pregnant female who now, he was reporting, had given birth to her kittens in his backyard. Now this guy is extraordinary and the world could use a few million more like him--he'd already set up a doghouse as a shelter for mom and she was in there with an undetermined number of kittens. He thought they were a few days to a week old.

      This was a night back in late March when it was not only very cold but pouring down rain. I mean, a deluge--and it had been raining for a couple of days. Even with the shelter of the doghouse, I couldn't imagine how those kittens could survive and I was heartsick thinking about them.

     But this mom did a first-rate job of keeping those little ones warm, dry, and fed, and survive they did!  I wanted to begin trapping for them as soon as possible, since the younger the kittens are when they go into foster homes, the more successfully they can be socialized--something that for feral kittens does not always come easily. But before I could even begin, Mom must have sensed something was up and she and the kittens relocated. This time, the homeowner discovered a few days later, they were living underneath his house!  At this point the kittens were four to five weeks old and really needed to be with humans if they were going to be socialized. The first night I trapped for them, I put out four kitten traps (basically squirrel traps) just outside the opening under the house where they were living. The next morning I had TWO little ones in the same trap--as sometimes happens with kittens, one had undoubtedly smelled the food and rushed in, following by sibling who didn't want to miss out. So both got trapped!

      To update this story, the two kittens spent three nights at my house, where my friend Claudia visited them and they were examined by our wonderful vet tech Anna Stewart. Anna treated them for fleas and also determined they were both little girls. Later that same afternoon, their new foster mom Jamie arrived to take them home with her. By the time she took them, they had stopped spitting and hissing and, while still unsure about all the changes in their short lives, they had taken the first few steps toward being socialized. Eventually they will be spayed and go off to the Adopt-A-Pet to find their Forever Home. Who knows, maybe some lucky person will take both of them!

      Here are a few pics of the little girls with Claudia:

The Dude's Progress

       After several weeks where it seemed we were making no progress at all, suddenly Little Dude got great test results back from the vet yesterday!  The problem, of course, has been his extremely low calcium levels, which cause his bones to fracture at the drop of a hat. Yesterday when he made his weekly visit to the vet for a blood test, his calcium had gone up from 6.3 last week to 7.2! This is huge progress! The beginning of the normal range for calcium is 7.8, so the Dude still has a ways to go. He continues to be on the Calcitrial Oil and Youngevity vitamin supplements and will be tested again next week.

       In the meantime, though, the Little Dude clearly feels better. This is obvious in his increased playfulness and mobility. He scoots around very rapidly now, not running yet, but speedwalking like crazy. Even better (from the Dude's point of view) he has discovered THE GREAT OUTDOORS. Just a couple of days ago, he started going out the back slider, which is always open during the daytime and opens into a fenced yard. On one side of the house calla lilies have blossomed in the warm weather and the vegetation is very thick. Of course, this is where the Dude likes to hide. Last night he was back there and I came out with a flashlight, but the shadows thrown by the lilies themselves made it impossible to even begin to see him and, of course, being black, he merges ninja-like with the night. Finally I just left him alone and he came back inside and went to bed when he got ready.

      It is so wonderful to have a positive report to make on the Little Dude. For all his physical limitations, he seems to really enjoy life and has no inkling there is anything 'wrong' with him or that he is in any way different from the other kitties.

                                                                                                              *

      On another note, it's kitten season now, alas, and I've already got one nursing mom over at a house in AG and another pregnant female at the same address. The prenant cat's a feral but her caregivers call her Lupe and I need to trap her before she gives birth. I tried last night and caught two other ferals, but not Lupe. In the meantime, it's important that I NOT trap the cat who has already given birth until her kittens are old enough to be without her for at least a day, while she is being spayed and recoverering from that.

      I was up on the Mesa the other day, doing the feeding stations I've set up there, and a young boy excitedly informed me that his cat had had kittens and his family wanted to 'donate' them to Feline Network. I explained that there are far too many kittens as it is but I offered to get his cat spayed. I will talk to his family next time I'm on the Mesa. Last year his parents were both very sympathetic to my efforts to trap feral cats and yet now they have allowed their own cat to give birth. So many people just don't seem to get it! Cats--like many humans--reproduce rapidly, automatically, and with no thought to the consequences or their ability to provide for their offspring.

       As a friend of mine wrote the other day, when will they ever find a method of birth control to put in cat's water or food! What a great day that would be!

A Little Bit of Feline Paradise

     With so much suffering in the world--animals and humans alike--it inspires hope to discover someone who is devoting her life to helping animals whose situations would otherwise be desperate. T.C. Flynn, who created and runs Cat Habitat, is just such a person. This past weekend I went with my friend Charmaine, another Feline Network volunteer, up to north county to visit the Habitat. It's a beautiful sprawling piece of land, safely fenced and enclosed, where little white igloos peak up from among a profusion of almond trees and other shrubs. As soon as Charmaine and I arrived, the more people-oriented members ot the 80 or so cats that live at the Habitat, came strolling up the path to greet us. Some were shy, some curious, others eager for tummy rubs. Several followed us around the entire time.
      Charmaine and I had come up with a particular goal in mind--to see how Socks and Fruity, the Habitat's newest members, were doing. These are two older gals who, until a couple of weeks ago, lived near some apartment complexes in Pismo Beach. Charmaine had been feeding them there every day for six years! I have watched these gals come out to greet Charmaine when she pulled up in her vehicle with their food. Their situation was made impossible, however, by a few unkind people in the area whose lack of empathy and compassion is truly astonishing. They insisted Charmaine 'get rid of" the cats--as if there were anywhere to take them, these two ferals who've been living on the street all their lives.
     Into this dire situation came T.C. Flynn.  After much effort on Charmaine's part, Fruity (originally named 'Fruitcake" for her comical ways) and Socks were relocated to the Habitat, where they spent their first rainy week snuggled inside a shed designed for kitties making the transition to life in the Habitat. After those first few days, when the sun came out, they were ready to go outside into their new world. It's a wonderful world, with plenty of shelter, good food, and no predators, but it's still got to be scary--not only a new environment but one filled with new faces. As Charmaine said, "It must be like going to a party where you don't know anyone."
     On the day we visited, Fruity was being shy and stayed in whatever hiding place she'd discovered (and there are so many places a cat can hide at the Habitat!) but Socks seemed completely at home. She followed Charmaine around the entire time we were there. Other cats perched in the almond trees, watching, while another pair seemed intent on protecting the bags of cat food in T.C's wheelbarrow, sure to be the first one's to eat when it was dinner time.
     Every cat at the Habitat has a story to tell--and all of them, to one degree or another, are sad ones. Fluffy is an elegant grey and white long-haired kitty who was rescued from an area where cruel people were putting ground glass in the cat's food. Mama is a gentle, sweet kitty rescued from an elementary school where kindness to animals was not something they wanted the kids to learn. Oliver is a solid grey tabby who got into trouble for sneaking into a building at night trying to get warm. He was rescued just in time from Animal Services. The little black female I named Braveheart was living in a woodpile up at the Mesa. Another of my rescue kitties, Twinky, was being 'evicted' from her safe haven by a home owner with plans to board up the little crawlspace where she'd taken refuge. Every cat at the Habitat has been granted a new life, free from hunger, cold, and the danger of human and animal predators.
IF YOU CAN HELP:  The Cat Habitat needs funds and volunteers.
             Contact T.C. Flynn at CAT HABITAT, PO Box 577, Atascadero CA  93423

                                                    Two residents of Cat Habitat

                                                      Charmaine with Socks

                                                       Guarding the Meow Mix

                                                         Kitty in almond tree

Update on the Dude

      As many of you know, the Little Dude is my six-month-old rescue kitty who was found up on the Mesa in Arroyo Grande last summer. He's brother (or maybe half-brother? cousin?) to Chella, the black kitty adopted by my neighbors Debbie and Jeff next door. Anyway Little Dude, aka Doodles, has problems walking. He does not jump or run like a normal kitty and uses little stairsteps designed for small elderly dogs to get up onto the bed and the sofa. Up until a couple of weeks ago, he had been doing relatively well. Then a few days after I returned home from a trip back east, he suddenly began showing symptoms again--he could barely walk or would walk a couple of tentative steps and sit down.
     At the vet's, xrays were taken that showed the Dude's bones were in very poor shape and he had a new fracture in the area of his pelvis, hence the difficulty walking. Also his front legs were both very obviously bowed. His disease is similar to a very bad case of osteoporosis.The vet put him on some heavy duty pain meds in addition to some liquid meds called Calcitriol Oil, which  had to be shipped out from a lab on the east coast. That was a little over two weeks ago and since then, the Dude has regained his former walking ability--still not what one would hope for in a normal kitty but much better than before. The vet says it will take a month or two, however, for us to know for sure if the Calcitriol Oil is going to work. It's designed to  help his body absorb vitamins D and Calcium, which he evidently lacks.
      Needless to say, I am distressed by the Little Dude's infirmity. If the Calcitriol Oil doesn't cure him, then we are pretty much at a dead end.
      So I pray for his recovery all the time and, in the meantime, I try to take one day at a time and make every day as good as possible for the Dude. He loves to eat--the Dude is a foodie for sure--so he gets wet food a couple of times a day and little bits of whatever Ma's eating--he especially loves the Morning Star fake bacon. I haven't told him it's vegetarian and I don't think he knows.
      If anyone out there has had a cat with problems absorbing calcium and vitamin D or has heard of anything like this, I would like to hear about it.
      On a lighter note, one thing I have discovered is that however beautiful, glamorous, and gorgeous a black cat may be, it is very difficult to photograph one well. They come out looking kind of like, well, a black blob unless you can get a good shot of the face and then it's a black blob with eyes. Of course, I share my home with three of the most gorgeous black cats in the Whole Known Universe--Little Mom from Firestone, Colorado, Sister Bug from AG and Little Dude from the Mesa, but it is hard to do them justice in photographs. With that in mind, though, I'm going to post photos of all three. Just remember the limitations of the photographer are no reflexion on the star quality of the cats

From bottom to top, Little Mom, Sister Bug (yawning and hanging out on roof), Little Dude with Kita

A Tale of 'Bobcat'

       In a world of too many unhappy endings, it's always a joy when something turns out really well, so with that in mind, I'm recounting the tale of an Abyssinian cat named

Bobcat. I never met Bobcat, but spoke to a kind-hearted woman named Hillary in Morro Bay who was trying to help him. It seems Bobcat had been living with people in the neighborhood who had, shall we say, an iffy relationship with the law and decided it to be in their best interests at some point to take off and go on the lam. They left Bobcat behind. Formerly an indoor cat, he was understandably traumatized and had been living under the porch of his former home. He was also an intact male.

      Hillary, who turned out to be his guardian angel, had been feeding Bobcat but he was too frightened at this point to allow her to pick him. Her plan was to trap him and take him to the vet for shots and neutering, then find him a home. Unfortunately she couldn't keep Bobcat herself because her two dogs have cat issues.

      I came into the picture when Hillary called Feline Network and someone there gave her my phone number. After talking to her, I told her I'd do the best I could to find someone who might be willing to foster Bobcat for a week or two and evaluate him as to adoptability. If he proved to be adoptable, we might be able to get him into the Adopt-A-Pet.

      I was lucky enough to actually find someone willing to evaluate Bobcat, when Hillary called again. It seems that, after taking Bobcat to the vet, she'd gone online and researched Abyssinian rescue sites. It turned out, there was a waiting list of people wanting to adopt Abyssinian cats. The rescue folks put her touch with a number of potential adopters, and it didn't take long to match Bobcat up with his new person in a forever home.

      Thanks to Hillary's compassion and her tenacity at continuing to look for a solution, Bobcat now has a safe, warm, loving home

     

     

Update On The Dude

        Not long ago, I wrote about the Little Dude's (aka Doodles) medical situation. Although to some extent baffled by the Dude's fragile bones and small stature, the vet's best guess was that he suffered/suffers from rickets, a disease in which vitamin D deficiency creates weak bones and sometimes stunted growth. The Dude has been on a highly nutritious diet, eating both dry and wet food with great enthusiasm, and spending more time in the sunshine now that the rain has stopped. He doesn't go outside--this is by his own choice as the back door slider is usually open--but he will lounge around on a cushion in a sun puddle, which is surely all to the good. He still doesn't run or climb, but his 'power walking' is very brisk and he occasionally engages in a mild form of play--he doesn't exactly chase the feathers on the stick but will roll around on his back and bat at them as they pass over. (Little Guy, my ten-year-old male cat from Colorado, has a similar style of laid back play).

         Lately the Dude has been getting up on the bed by himself and lounging. He is growing, but it is an odd sort of growth. I noticed the other day that he just about as big as Little Mom, another all black cat, but while Little Mom looks like a small adult cat, Little Dude more resembles a rather large kitten. His proportions are still kittenish and his front legs are bowed, a condition which may never change. He is adorable, though, and doesn't seem to be the slightest bit aware that he might be just a tad different from the other kitties.

        So I am very thankful to have the Dude as a member of my feline household. He came from a bad situation on the Mesa and now has a loving forever home here in Pismo Beach.

       

        

Open Hearts, Closed Hearts

 

     The other night at a meeting, I heard a woman talk about the difficulties of being a caregiver (I believe she was a nurse who works with children.) She said her perspective is that, in the face of suffering, she has one fundamental choice: she can protect herself by closing off her heart or she can keep her heart open, do the best she can, and then turn it over to God. I think there's great wisdom in that, and I try to apply it to my own work with ferals.

      Lately a couple of sad situations have come up. The day after Christmas I got a call from a woman who works at a business in A.G. She has been seeing a cat who, from the sound of it, must either have terrible skin cancer or some kind of severe facial wound. From her description, it sounds as though the animal needs to be euthanized as soon as possible. I've been trapping in the area where we think the cat is but haven't had any luck. Then last night it rained so I didn't trap. This morning the sun was coming out, so I went over again and put out a trap, but so far, nothing. All I can do is hope and keep trying.

       There is another tragic situation in Oceano. A friend of mine had a friend who shot himself to death the day after Christmas. As if this weren't horrible enough, he left behind three cats, one of them a special needs cat, in the house that he totally trashed before taking his own life. I went over there with my friend looking for the cats a couple of nights ago. A clean up crew was there. The house was filled with shattered glass, broken furniture, complete chaos--everything reduced to rubble. We glimpsed one cat but were unable to catch it. My friend left two traps that night, but when I returned the next morning, all I found was a possum and a neighbor's cat, both of whom I promptly released, of course.

      Now, a couple of days later, one cat has been found, another cat named Lucille (whose special needs made her virtually impossible to adopt) has been euthanized, and a third--who has a home waiting for it--is still free-roaming. This is a terrible end not just for the individual who killed himself, but for his animal companions, who have no way of understanding or coping with the complete chaos into which their once peaceful lives have been thrown. How terrifying it must have been for those cats when their person was destroying the contents of the house, when the gun fired and then all was terribly silent. All they could do was escape out the broken windows and wander around, trying to find their way back to the home they'd known which now no longer existed.

      In all likelihood, the third cat will remain in the vicinity of its home--it's being provided food and water, of course--and will eventually be rescued. In the meantime, all we can do is the best we can.

       And while this is going on, the usual trapping situations need addressing. I was alerted to a feral colony over in Avila Beach that is being fed and cared for by an animal-loving couple. They cannot afford, however, to have all these cats spay/neutered, so I'm trapping over there. Caught two the first night, then didn't trap because of the rain, but will be back there tonight with a couple more traps. It will take some time to get everyone, but this isn't mating season, so we have some time.

      And things seem to be leveling out at the Mesa. Perhaps the free-ranging dogs that were eating the food out of the feeding stations for so long are being kept home now--I hope! Anyway there was food left at the feeding stations when I checked them yesterday.

      So this is just a little recap on what's been going on with my cat trapping efforts over the holidays. This time of year seems to be particularly painful for many people and that pain filters down--to their companion animals and to feral animals in need of care. At any time, but especially in difficult times, keeping an open heart is a challenge, but I remind myself the alternative is far worse.

A Kitten Named Braveheart

        The first time I saw the little black kitten who lived in the woodpile was late last summer, when I was trying to track down the various members of a litter that had apparently gotten dispersed up on the Mesa. I don't know what happened to Mom--maybe she was killed by a car or a predator, maybe she wandered off. One of her kittens was rescued young and ended up living with my next door neighbor. Another one (I suspect, although I'm not positive) is probably my own Little Dude. A couple more were trapped inside a garage and went to Christine's house to be fostered until they became less feral.

        But this kitten, who had taken refuge in the woodpile next to a high wall dividing two half-acre properties, proved impossible to catch. Not because it wouldn't be trapped (although I did try a couple of times with no luck) but because The Feline Network was swamped with kittens last summer. We literally didn't have a single foster home where this kitten could go if I did catch it. I remember seeing the kitten one afternoon when another volunteer and I were in the area scouting for a likely spot to put feeding stations. We saw the kitten dash into its hiding place among the logs. I remember how my heart sank. How could such a small kitten possibly live on its own without mom?

        Throughout the fall, I took food up to the Mesa kitties two or three times a week, always leaving food and water next to the woodpile, but I thought the kitten had probably died. Sometimes I'd leave a whole bag of food and every single bit would be gone the next day, a sure sign that dogs (which seem to run wild on the Mesa!) or raccoons had eaten it. Then the nights got cold and it rained. I almost gave up leaving food by the woodpile, because I honestly didn't think the kitten could have survived.

        But I kept bringing food whenever I could. A couple of weeks ago I saw a furry black, much larger kitten dive into the woodpile as I approached. It was the same kitten! A neighbor told me that she'd heard an owl crying and circling over the woodpile--not surprising, since kittens and young cats often fall prey to owls. I decided I had to trap this little one and get it out of that woodpile as soon as possible.

       I called the wonderful woman who runs a refuge for feral cats in North County and, with my fingers crossed, asked if she had room for one more. She did! That was the first step.

       Next I put out two traps by the woodpile Monday night. I said a prayer: Please God let this little one enter the trap. The next day at 6 a.m. I was out there with my flashlight checking the traps. The first one had been cleaned out but wasn't sprung. The second one held a furry black five-month old kitten!

       I rejoiced! I took the cat to the Feline Network vet, where I soon learned it was a female and negative for feline leukemia ( a prerequisite for acceptance at the refuge.) That afternoon I rendez-vous'd with T.C., the woman who runs the refuge, up in Atascadero. T.C. likes all her kitties to have names. I told her this gal's name was Braveheart, because she had earned it. I can't imagine how a tiny kitten survived for months living alone in a woodpile, with limited food supply, cold and rain, and animal predators, but she did it!

       Now a resident of the feral refuge, little Braveheart will live out her days with plenty of food, warm igloos filled with straw for shelter, and a protected environment with other cats like herself. Hopefully, in time, she will make a friend or two and realizethat life has gotten inexplicably better.

       When I look at the pictures that I took of Braveheart  when she was in the carrier, I can see how afraid she was. At that moment, if her mind worked like a human mind, I'm sure she'd have given anything in the world to be back in the 'safety' of her familiar woodpile, however dark, cold, lonely, and dangerous it might have been. She had no way to imagine the incomparably better life that she was headed toward and all the many people who had worked together to make it possible. Our human lives are so much like that, I think. So often we desperately fear and resist change, all the while that unseen forces may be at work on our behalf.

Re: Little Dude's Medical Crisis

       As some of youknow, The Little Dude is a feral kitty rescued from the Mesa area, in Arroyo Grande, CA, in late August of this year. Destined at first for the Adopt-a-Pet, I came to realize he was definitely a part of my family and nixed the idea of any adoptions a few months ago--Little Dude had found his forever home here in Pismo Beach!

        I always knew the Dude was an unusual, seemingly fragile kitten. He had bouts of hobbling around as though unable to use his hind legs well. He never jumped up onto anything, but used (and continues to use) pet stairs that my neighbor generously gave me to access the bed and the sofa. Dr. Conn's first guess was that he might have something called Kelesi Virus, which causes pain in the back legs but generally is outgrown within a short time when it appears in kittens. But Little Dude's symptoms have gotten no better, so we made another trip to Cat and Exotic Care on Monday, this time to begin extensive testing, including blood work, x-rays, testing of the joint fluid, and testing for FIV and Feline Leukemia.

      The results, though as yet incomplete, are not promising. On the good side, the Dude is negative for both FIV and FeLeuk and, somewhat to Dr. Conn's surprise, there is nothing really wrong with his joints. They appear intact. But he shows three healed fractures in his back and front legs that indicate some kind of congenital bone disease--something perhaps akin to osteoporosis. He's Calcium deficient--no surprise there given his bones--and there's a good possibility his thyroid may not be functioning properly. Some of the test results have not yet come in and I'm awaiting further information.

       It's discouraging to say the least.

       As far as having a kitten with a strange, undiagnosable medical condition, this is the second time it's happened to me, which as Carla at Cat and Exotic said this morning is "like getting struck twice by lightning."

       About two and a half years ago, I was incredibly blessed when Sister Bug, a tiny feral kitten whom I fostered along with her brother and sister, miraculously recovered from what had appeared to be a very serious health threat. Basically, she was unable to poop and had to be rushed to the emergency vet a couple of times to have her system cleared out. At one point, Sister Bug was on three different kinds of meds twice a day just to keep everything moving along. And even after all kinds of tests, there was no clear indication of what was wrong with her!

       Then, almost overnight, Sister Bug 'outgrew' her problem and has been a perfectly normal, healthy cat ever since. I was praying the same would happen with the Dude, that his difficulties would turn out to be Kelesi Virus or something else he'd outgrow. This time it doesn't look like that's going to be the case.

       What it comes down to, I guess, is all I can do is the best I can. I'll do everything I can to get the Little Dude the best health care, to remain comfortable and content, and make sure however much time he is allotted on this planet, that it's as pleasant for him as it can possible be. Beyond that, it's up to God.

       Knowing how fragile he is, I'm more grateful than ever that Little Dude is part of my feline family. This is a very tranquil, quiet household where the older cats are generally tolerant and laid back--when Little Dude shoves his little head into a food bowl where someone else is eating, I'm always amazed that the other cat invariably backs off without so much as a hiss. They are touchingly tolerant of his tendency to be obnoxious around eating.

      So that's it for now. I will provide more updates on the Dude's health situation later on.

 

       And on a very positive note, this morning was the first time ever that, when I visited my Mesa feeding stations, there was still plenty of food in each one. I saw the black kitten that lives in the woodpile scamper away--he/she is alive and well, but I need to start trapping for him soon. Like next week. A resident told me there was an owl cruising around in the area of the woodpile the night before. I feel so sorry for this little guy. What must it be like to be growing up all alone, living in a woodpile for shelter on these cold nights. But today, when I was there, he had food, water, and an abundance of warm sunshine, so that is reason to celebrate!