They are capable hiders these two new kittens. Even in a room that has basically been stripped bare of any escape holes, they find clever places to hide. So ingenious is their escape mechanism, that my breath stops with a gasp at what I consider an “empty” room.

I don’t wish to turn the lights on- I know they can’t get out of the room. There is no way. Early escapes from others before them have caused hubby and I to become tricky and devious and plug every hole.

So, I mentally mark off the room in a grid and start searching. I find little orange girl crammed inside a large container of dog biscuits. There is no top to this ancient cannister. It was bought for just a dime at the local thrift store to hold dog treats. Who knew it could also hold a scared kitten who would never be a dog treat.

The gray mackeral girl became a bit of a challenge. Somehow, she managed to sandwich herself under the wide lip of the litter pan. She was stretched flat against the side of the pan which is also gray, a chameleon of sorts. She can’t change the color of her fur, but she certainly can blend in to the common color.

Finding them caused their eyes to dilate and they began to pant. I have to wonder what in the world happened to them to make them so scared. What two-legged monster terrorized these kittens to the point of this acute fear? I left them alone after putting out food which I pray will be gone in the morning. I know they are hungry- when I assist feed them, they lap greedily at the gruel offered. But for now, I leave them in peace with Dr. Diane’s CD Harp of Hope playing softly in the background.

They do not have names yet, there is a golden mackeral tabby and a gray mackeral tabby. They are about 7 months old and their history is sketchy. Again, kept in closed carriers for most of their lives, I have them upstairs right now in a smaller room. They have ample places to hide, however nothing they can duck under. The gray girl is so terrified when let out of her carrier she climbed the walls looking for an exit hole. The lady who had them said they weren’t eating for a couple of days now and she is “tired” of dealing with them.

Thankfully, when I assist-fed them they both ate, rather greedily I might add and it did my heart good to see they had appetites. Lord have mercy but this Inn is full of furry ones.

Delilah is still draining which is what they want. She has a good appetite but her adventure at the vets plumb wore her out. She is doing a lot of sleeping, but then she is confined in a large dog cage, so her options on what to do are a bit limited.

She is as loving as the day is long and she goes back May 2nd to get her stitches out. Maybe then they will address those other abcesses for her. I wonder what attacked her so viciously? Usually cats when they fight, they don’t repeatedly bite over and over unless they are trying to kill each other. If she were a tom, that might be possible. I suspect instead she got nailed by something other than a cat.

Samson watches his friend with concerned eyes. He wants her to come out of the cage, but I dare not release her. If she gets under the bed, in no time she would scrape open her sutures and then she would be in a real mess!

Brooklyn keeps her distance. I ended up placing ten cat carriers in the room, all with different enticements inside; soft bedding, catnip, catnip toys, special treats, food, a water bowl with a ping pong ball floating in the bowl. At the arrival of the carriers she backed into a corner and hissed. All the doors are propped open, and my hope is her constant exposure to these carriers will over time make her less anxious to see them. I wouldn’t really push the issue, but she is in heat right now which means she needs to get to the vet and get spayed.

I received a sweet surprise this afternoon in the mail. Mrs. Peach has made this beautiful watch for me as a comfort for spending time with Shell. The watch has a beaded band and a cat clasp and looks absolutely beautiful!

Brooklyn is a new arrival. She came yesterday. I call her Brooklyn because in researching her background, she has got to be a gritty, determined tough little calico lady, just like this town in New York. Their motto is “In Unity, there is Strength.” Let’s hope that by coming here and being united with this household, Brooklyn can find her strength and righten herself.

Her previous owner had kept her for days on end in a small carrier. What is with people who think that this some sort of a LIFE for a cat? Cats are free-moving, independent spirits, and to keep them cramped up in cages or carriers (unless there is a medical reason) is disgusting.

But while Brooklyn was in this carrier, the woman’s twin sons would beat on the carrier with sticks! Grrr!
Really people get a grip! The mom would just laugh and think it was so funny and Brooklyn became an aggressive girl very quickly. The next step in this process? Why we will “get rid of the cat!” I guess the boys will have to find other entertainment now; like setting the dog’s tail on fire or plucking the feathers off the canary!

So when Brooklyn arrived here, I thought she was part tiger. Hissing, growling then screaming at the top of her lungs. I didn’t know much of her history then, just that they couldn’t keep her. I let her out of her carrier and she attacked me big time. I’m pretty good at not getting messed up when it comes to PTSD kitties but she took me completely by surprise.

I had to get her back in the carrier- that was fun. When this poor girl sees a carrier, she pees all over herself, her eyes dilate to the size of a full moon and she will NOT- I repeat, she will NOT go in there. I finally had to drop a duffle bag over her head to calm her down and then take Pop’s fishing net and lay that over her, wrap her up like a fish and put her in the carrier to keep her and myself safe.

It took me about an hour to set up a room for her. She is a large space free to roam. There is a larger dog cage in the room, with a carrier inside the cage full of soft bedding and a bit of catnip. All doors to carrier and cage are opened. The room is protected by a wire door and because of her aggression factor, I placed pet-proof screening over the wire. Then I let her out of the carrier she arrived in (tossed that hummer into the shed) and left her alone.

She has food, water, litter pans, toys, cat condos, beds and everything a kitty needs to be comfortable. There are several caves in the room which is where I suspect I will find her when I go up and check on her.

It’s always amazing to me how much harm people can do to cats either through ignorance or just because the people are evil. Cats never set out to do harm to other cats unless there is a reason-toms fighting over mates, alphas fighting to gain control- queens fighting to protect their young.

Yet time and time again PTSD kitties arrive here and they are so damaged their trust meter has been turned off.

Let’s hope that Brooklyn can overcome her past and become an adoptable, loving kitty- because as calicos go, this girl is drop-dead gorgeous.

Here’s Brooklyn

The vet just called and said they had to sedate Delilah and clip her. They found five old bite wounds that had receeded, abscessed, receeded, abscessed. They cut away all the necrotic tissue and there was a lot of it- poor kitty. They are keeping her overnight because they have to keep the wounds open so they will drain. I will pick her up in the morning. They also said the white barnacle stuff in her ears is a yeast infection that has calcified. They cleaned those out and will send home drops and antibiotics for sweet Delilah.

Delilah’s challenge

I have been thinking about Blossom (who I have now renamed Delilah) and I think she might be Shell’s Mum. Because the Fragile Skin Syndrome is genetically passed and they both have (or in Shell’s case had) it. Both are torties- one dilute long-hair, one tortie short-hair.

I dropped her off at the vet’s hope they see to her soon because they just called me to work later this afternoon.

It’s the darndest thing I have ever seen on Blossom, but she keeps getting these splits on her skin right by her tail. They look like a miniature earthquake has hit her, small bloody fissures running amuck.
My vet said she must have allergies- but I don’t think so and this morning she has an abcess there. Normally, I can open and debreed these suckers but she is just to old and to fragile.

Waiting for the vet’s to open so I can call and hopefully get an appointment this morning for her. She is eating and last night she did allow me to clean her wound area with the stuff the vet gave me- but she let me know that I had to be very gentle or I might be missing a few digits afterward!

This isn’t like Shell’s fragile skin syndrome, this is something different and probably brought on my poor nutrition and neglect. Some days, they are all healed up and no problem, but this isn’t the day for that.

It spit snow yesterday on the way to work. Snow! In April- in Oregon? Hmmm-

She calls herself a rescuer, yet the cats are kept in clutter. There are URI abounding with all the cats running around. When she first gets a cat, there is no quarantine set up. The cat is just pushed into a carrier where it has to live on top of a litter pan that rarely gets cleaned.

She calls herself a rescuer but her cats are in ill health. She keeps intact females “because they throw loud kittens”

She has an outside pen that makes me weep- the cats are exposed to the elements with only a thin sheet of plastic protecting them from the bitter wind in the winter and the extreme heat of the summer.

She calls herself a rescuer, but vet visits are few and far between. Yes, she neuters kitties, but she negates this action by keeping intact females and letting them have babies. These babies are forced to live in dirty carriers next to a litter pan and somehow, Mom needs to sandwich herself between the litter pan and the back of the carrier to care for the needs of the family.

She calls herself a rescuer but is in need of rescuing herself. Someone who started with a good heart, but got overwhelmed, couldn’t manage to say an important word “NO,” and has no idea what she is doing, or how to do it well.

The last cats I got, I received from her after she “rescued” them. There are two left, both seniors, both with challenges but at least they stand a chance to have a semblance of life with us here.

She calls herself a rescuer- shame on her-

Samson

Blossom

Manny has joined his friend Shell and together they have traversed the Bridge into a land only people can dream of. In Heaven’s grasses, Manny now joins in the hunt for flutterbugs to play with and become friends to. Leaping high over the clouds, running the skies with a magnificence only he can muster.

It seems as it is always the special ones who are called home early. Perhaps they have another mission to perform, another family to touch and their time with each individual leaves them all changed for life.

In his last breath of life Manchester was glorious- in the Heavens above he is now feline Magnificent.

Goodbye Manny- you stayed way to short of a time but long enough to enrich it. Tell Shell I said hello~

He is out of the tent this morning and wandering the room. Other than a bad URI and some sort of infection WBC count is up, he may be out of the woods now. I hope so, but only time will tell.

In order to give him his meds, I have to pound them into fine dust, mix them with a bit of water and baby food and tuck him between my legs as I kneel on the floor and convince him to open his mouth and not spit it all over me. He’s bitten me twice and clawed me a dozen times- he is NOT a compliant patient!

This morning, even with frost on the ground, the sun has snuck into his window and he is laying on his pillow in the sunspot. His appetite is still pretty nonexistent so assist-feeding is the way I am going. But when I have a cold and my nose is running like Niagra Falls, I don’t much want to eat either. My mother used to say “Starve a Cold, Feed a Fever.” I won’t starve him, because you can’t or they get sicker- but I do understand his reluctance in eating right now.