Furry Felines Find new Friends

In November, Leslie and Dick saved this little creature (and his mother) from the gutter in front of Dick's townhouse. This guy was just about the size of a minute, soaking wet, terrorized and as wild as wild could be. He and his mother remained in a huge cage for several days before we allowed them the freedom of a room. The female, who was later named Mama Cass, kept her eye out for any means of escape whist her offspring, named Buckwheat for his big black eyes and wild hairdo, hid in the corner, under the blanket, under the bed, and as far away from any human contact as possible. Both felines were terrified, hungry, filthy, and in desperate need of love and kindness from the human world.

Eventually, the mother became extremely friendly, greeting you as you came through the front door, jumping into your lap, rubbing her face and tail against anyone who would pay her attention. She had a squeaky little mew but a purr that could rattle the walls. We decided that she must have been owned and abandoned, or ran away from home just as the family with which she lived was moving. Whatever it was, she was MUCH too friendly and comfortable with human beings not to have been owned by one at sometime or other.

Her son, on the other hand, never did become comfortable with us larger mammals. He would come around, sniff at you, but bolt the second you reached out to him or showed any sign of trying to touch him. For the most part he would either hiss or hide. He let Dick pet him, but was never truly comfortable in the experience, always zipping off fast soon after the back or neck was stroked, as if to clean himself of the human encounter.

Unfortunately, as they animals grew and their long hair rained down on the furniture and floors, becoming trapped in carpets and bed linens, Dick began to feel the affects of feline allergies. Though we tried to keep the abode clean, dusted and vacuumed, the hair and dander lingered until Dick had to make the final decision to get rid of the two new family members. Luckily Leslie, a pet lover extraordinaire, put out fliers and posters and soon we had a lovely couple, knowledgeable of wild things and with the patience to care for these two, come to adopt.

Friday night was a truly sad occasion. I was teary and loving on Mama Cass knowing she would soon be departing. Buckwheat had gone to the vet earlier in the week to have his bits snipped and was doing very well, though he still liked to hide in the extra bedroom, which is where he was located when his new parents arrived. We all had hopes of a calm and peaceful transition for the felines...like that could happen.

First Leslie and Dick went to get the cat, but to no avail. Buckwheat went wild, flying around the room and hiding from anything that moved. Dick called for towels, which I brought inside, watching as these two were being outsmarted by the small ball of black fur bounding from the bed to the drapes to the blinds to the dresser and back again until he finally trapped himself behind a large picture leaning against the wall. I slowly eased the hand towel over him and was able to sort of bundle him in it whilst I grabbed the scruff of the neck with one hand and attempted to hold onto his bound feet with the other. Well, the road to hell is paved with good intentions and believe me I traveled down that road Friday night. As I got close to the carrier, Buckwheat began the fight. The towel slipped off my hand and the cat found contact with the middle finger of my right hand, clamped down with his jagged little sharp pointy teeth and held on for dear life.

Mind you, I have given birth twice, naturally and through cesarean, I have had broken bones, I have been in traction from falling down icy steps, I have dislocated knees, I have had my bikini line and bits beyond waxed, but I have never felt pain like I felt when that little creature’s razor sharp teeth sunk deep into my knuckle, began gnawing and would not let go come hell or high water. I was in such misery I couldn't do anything except whisper “Dick…Dick….Dick” while he and Leslie tried to get the wicked little teeth out of my hand while getting maimed with sharp claws in the process. (And I wonder now if I will ever have the full use of my right hand again. The finger is a sausage, at least twice the size of the two other fingers around it and unable to bend or extend properly. The color is a brilliant purple, dull green and ocher yellow, as well as a little black and blue. I have holes in my thumbs from where I tried to pry the little bugger's mouth open, only to have him pierce the nails and pads with his canines. And there are some very attractive puncture wounds on the underside of my finger, the perfect replica of the Buckwheat's dental bite, in case they are needed later for forensic purposes. I am living on antibiotics and Motrin and using some very strong painkillers so that I can sleep at night. And I still hurt dammit!)

The cat? Oh, once we were able to pry his evil mouth off of me and I ran to the bathroom to bleed profusely into the sink while running freezing water over my hands and fighting off bouts of nausea, Dick was able to wrap the animal in the big towel and get the whole kit and caboodle into the carrier. The remainder of the transition from one house to the next happened with little or no more excitement from the two critters that now appear to be very happy in their new abode. How do I know this? We got pictures via email. The two are getting used to their new digs, staying in one room for the time being but will soon be introduced to the rest of the house.

But they will find their new home much different from the last. And I don’t think that little one will be able to hide from the rest of the household for long as there are other critters, Connor in particular, that are anxious to get to know him too!