For a month or so the aforementioned waif took up residence on our porch. We had become her home base and she spent time with me outside, sunning and reading and gardening. (Yes, she can read. She is very smart).
(BTW, this annoyed Weezie Meep very much because she has wanted to spend time with me outside for ages and I just won’t let her.)
The waif was scabby. We started calling her Lucy. Or Scabrielle. Or Anatasia Bubka. Or Princess Sparrow. Or just The Porch Kitty.
We put an upsidedown litter box lid on the porch and padded it with some towels and rugs to give her some shelter from the elements as the weather turned colder. Sometimes she would lie in this crate and let me loris her armpits. It got harder and harder to close the door on her every night. Something had to be done. Then I accidentally forgot not to care about her so much and kissed her head one evening. Her head smelled good. A plan was hatched.
A few nights later I quietly put a travel crate out on the porch with her and made an appointment with our vet for first thing in the morning – with the stipulation that, “You know, she’s not my cat, so I don’t even know if she be there for us to bring her in ’cause she’s not ours.” They were ok with that.
Next morning, no problem. We tempted her with a treat and she strolled right into the crate. She was pretty sedate in the car too. Happily, we got in to see Our Favorite Vet. They put us in a room to wait and the porch kitty sniffed around a little then sat quietly between us. (Next to Lolly you could hardly see her; they both wear mostly black all the time, so Lolly provides excellent camouflage.) OFV came in and said, “What have you guys done now!?” We told her tale of the waif, her background as we knew it and and what we were thinking should be done now. The latter being: we have no fucking idea. There was a slim chance that my boss would take her. OFV said that she would put some feelers out about finding her a home. But in the meantime, we needed to see what’s what.
First thing was to check her for a chip. No chip. (No surprise.) Then kitty AIDS and leukemia. No kitty AIDS or leukemia. (A relief.) Then her general health and her teeth and her weight. (Very good. One broken one. Normal.) OFV ran the flea comb over her and while she didn’t get any bugs off her, we could feel the many many many little scabs under her fur. Poor thing probably was allergic and OFV had a hard time finding a not-scabby place on her neck to put some flea poison.
So now what? We brought her home and plunked her out into the basement so we could monitor her after her treatments (de-flea, de-worm, allergy med, microchipping) and vaccinations (kAIDS, leuk, rabies). We gave her a litter box and food and water and a big pillow on top of the washing machine under the window and a few kisses.
She didn’t know what to do either so after a quick check of the window she just stayed where we put her.
Later that day we had a visit from the next door neighbor. She came over about some other issue (perhaps to be blogged about later) but in the course of the visit inquired about our cats and said, “You have a black and white one too, right?” Um… well, no. Not really. Although she is in our basement at the moment…
The neighbor’s husband had seen her several times helping herself to their chihuahuas’ food. (The waif, not the neighbor lady – at least not in this particular story. I can’t say for sure.) He wanted to bring her in and make her their own, but the wife told him that she thought the cat was ours. When I said that she wasn’t, but we are thinking about it, or hoping to find a home for her, she perked up like, “Oh? We’ll take her!” But when it was clear that they would have her as an indoor/outdoor cat I started making pretend like we were going to keep her ourselves. But I would let her know, because we’re only probably fostering her for the time being so far I think.
(im in ur hous)