We didn't know

see also

I’m usually alone up at the front desk, I’m the only shelter assistant. We’re incredibly short staffed and no one really wants to be up there anyway, so they all avoid it. We have two animal control officers, they only time they are both working is Saturdays. They do 4 10 hour shifts. Two kennel techs and one vet tech (Registered Vet Tech). One of the kennel techs is part time, she only works Sunday & Monday. The shelter manager is always busy doing something, meetings, paperwork, etc. So it’s all me. The other day the RVT was sitting up front with me while she checked her email and ate her lunch. Three people came stumbling in the door. There was a young girl, maybe 16, a guy who was maybe 25 and then an older guy who was mid forties, I’m assuming they were family. The two men didn’t really speak English, so the girl translated. She pretended that she didn’t understand me, but she knew damn well what I said. The conversation went like this:

Girl – “We want to give you these dogs” Me – “Are they YOUR dogs?” Girl – “yes, we don’t want them anymore so we want to give them to you” Me – “are they fixed?” Girl – “fixed?” Me – “So they can’t have babies anymore?” Girl – “Yes. We don’t want them anymore” Me – “Mmmkay. Do you live here?” Girl – “Yes. We want to give you the dogs” Me – “Right. We can take them, it’s $35 for each dog” Girl – “No we don’t want them anymore. We want to give them to you.” Me – “Right got it. You have to PAY to surrender the dogs to us” Girl – “Oh we didn’t know” Me – “Ok, well it’s $35 each” Girl – “We don’t want them anymore. We didn’t know” Me – “We can take them but you have to pay $35 for each dog” Girl – “Oh we didn’t know. We have to pay?” Me – “Yes. I need you to fill out some paperwork” Girl – “Can we come back?” Me – “Yes but it will still be $35 if you want to leave the dogs here” Girl – “Can we come back? We don’t want them anymore. We didn’t know” Me – “Yes you can come back, it will still be $35 if you don’t want them” During this conversation she was translating everything to the two guys, who were completely confused by the idea that they had to PAY us to take their dogs. The RVT finally said “You don’t WANT them? Why do you have TWO then” Which made me laugh a little.

We do have a little flexibility and if someone can’t pay we’ll take animals for free. But this wasn’t a matter of not being able to pay, they just didn’t WANT to. Part of me was thinking I should just take them for free because there’s a good chance they’re going to dump those dogs somewhere. BUT if there are no consequences to ‘not wanting’ the dogs anymore they will just continue to adopt or buy puppies and dump them when they get older and become too much work. She wasn’t smart enough to make up a story or ask if there was anything we could do about the $35. Most of the time people make up stupid lies and you can see right through them, the most common one is they ‘found’ the animal. It’s refreshing to hear the truth, but it also made me cringe. Animals aren’t garbage, you can’t just decide you don’t want them anymore like an old pair of pants. They never came back, not that I thought they would. Hopefully they found another shelter and LIED.

Changes...

see also

I should change the title to “Living with SEVEN cats”…yes we added to our circus. Lots of things have happened. I’m no longer working in financial services. I work at the animal shelter, which is good and bad. Good because I love the animals and I love being around them and helping them find good homes. Bad because I want to save them all AND I see the worst of the worst. More on that later.

Our latest addition, Squirt, was supposed to be a ‘long term foster’…hahahaha. He was left in a box, by the front door. He was about 6 weeks old and had a broken/dislocated ankle bone. (Worst of the worst) We don’t know for SURE but we THINK someone probably stepped on his leg. The leg may require additional treatment at some point. This fact must be disclosed to potential adopters. No one wants a handicapped kitten, lots of people looked at him. I was a little protective though, no kids, NO outside, not sure about other cats either. He was in a cage in front of me in the lobby. So I’d look up and he’d be on his back, looking at me. I worried that when the healthy kittens started coming in he’d really be passed over. The shelter manager told me to take him home as a foster, to see how our other cats received him. Pippi was NOT happy, she spent the first week growling almost non stop. He just walked around in her in a big circle. Herbie welcomed him, he taught him to wrestle and let Squirt chase him around. After about 10 days I caught Pippi playing with him, she saw me and instantly started growling again. Once Pippi gave her stamp of approval it was official, Squirt was far too comfortable here for me to take him back to the shelter. He would have been heart broken.

Squirt fit right in and made himself right at home. We were worried about the stairs. He stepped off the first stair, lost his balance and did this ass-over-tea kettle roll down the stairs. You could hear his claws trying to grip the carpet. We stood at the top of the stairs, stunned. I thought for SURE he broke something. He got to the bottom of the stairs, legs all spread out and shook his head and took off. His leg does NOT slow him down, he’s all over everything.

The biggest change is that I’m not working at the animal shelter. My responsibilities are to keep the shelter running. I do the deposit, dog licensing, answer the phones, process adoptions, etc. However, we’re short staffed and I can’t let the cats sit and wait for one of the kennel techs to clean. So every morning, except Tues & Sat, when we have volunteers come in and clean, I clean. If done correctly it’s a LOT of work, but I don’t mind it. It’s satisfying to know I’ve done something worthwhile and it gives me the opportunity to get to know the cats. From 9 to 10:30-11:00 I clean. I go to lunch around 11:40ish, I need to be back to open the shelter at 1. Then from 1-6 I sit up at the front and greet people and answer the phones. Everyday brings something new and I always think I’ve heard it all….

Halloween Costume Contest

see also

Every year our complex has a Halloween Costume contest. It’s definitely meant for people and kids, but for the past two years we’ve entered Herbie. Hurley would be a better entry since he likes being dressed up, but Herbie is on our lease.

Last year Herbie won a free car wash gift certificate. This year he won a Target gift card. They always put his picture up in the office, somehow I don’t think he’d be happy about that. He never looks happy when we take his picture.

Hurley on the other hand likes to play dress up. We have a couple of ties we bought from Target. We were shopping for cat food, I turned around and there were the cat costumes…all on clearance. How can you say no to a tie for $1.99? We figured it’d be cute, crazy but cute. We ended up buying two of them. Last year Bob’s mom got us a Santa hat and cape. Ernie and Lucky will have no part of the ties or the Santa hats. We got Lucky to wear it for like 10 seconds last year. Jack will tolerate it for a few minutes but he’s not thrilled about it. There’s no way I’d even try to put anything on Pippi….well actually maybe I’d put a dress on her. Maybe she takes exception to the fact that we’re trying to put a tie on her.

Little Joe then and now

see also

We have had a lot of foster kittens. Some came with their moms, but most of them were without. Jack and Hurley’s mom turned out to be nuts, she hissed at her babies and she tried to bite Bob. She had to be removed shortly after she arrived because we were worried about her beating up her kittens. Pippi’s mom was a little better, but after about a week she got sick of being locked up with them. She shoved her face under the door and rubbed all the fur off next to her nose.

When kittens go from nursing to eating solids they have horrible soft poops. It’s just a mess; they step in it and make a huge mess. We were constantly bathing them in the sink. Even as babies they HATE the water. They grow much slower too.

We were fortunate enough to be able to foster Little Joe and her kittens. She was The Best mom ever. She LOVED her babies and never got tired of them climbing on her or nursing. It was so sweet seeing her with them, and the best part was how healthy they were. They grew so fast we barely had them two weeks and they had doubled in size. There’s a huge difference between kittens that don’t have a chance to nurse as long as necessary and kittens that have the benefit of being with their mothers. They were solid little kittens.

As much as Little Joe loved her babies, she did NOT like being locked up. I’m sure it’s tough to go from having the world as your oyster to be cooped up all day in a bathroom with five kittens. She was sad, you could see it on her face. I know, cats aren’t supposed to have emotions, but she really looked sad. Even worse was when they all went up for adoption and she was alone. She really missed them, I felt so bad for her. We brought her home after she was spayed and kept her for a few days before we set her free. It broke my heart to see how thin she was and how she’d just given up. She would hide behind the toilet and cry when we tried to pick her up. After a few days Bob finally managed to get her in the carrier, he said she cried and then just went limp. She probably thought she was going back to the shelter.

It’s taken her a few months to trust me again, she never stopped coming around. She just didn’t let me get too close. I can’t say that I blame her. She just recently started coming up to me when I call her and letting me pet her.

She’s gotten chubby. She was a frail little thing when we got her back from her spay, I think the paperwork said she was 7 ½ pounds. I’d say she’s filled out to a nice 12-14 pounds. I was petting her the other night and I realized you can’t feel her spine or ribs anymore. She seems happy again, her best friend is Zoila. They’re always together, I like to think they go shopping together or have coffee. I’m so glad we did right by her. All her kittens were spayed/neutered, got their shots and were adopted. And she won’t ever have another litter of kittens.

A gift from Little Joe

see also

When Little Joe first started coming around I thought she was a boy so I named her Little Joe. By the time I realized she was a girl the name had stuck and she does turn when you call her so I assume that means she sort of knows her name.

About two months ago I noticed she was pregnant. Bob and I debated this fact because she wasn’t enormous and he thought maybe she’d just put on weight. She looked pregnant to me. The gestation for cats is 60 days so I knew the clock was ticking, I really wanted to catch her and get her to the shelter before she had her kittens. Having kittens under a bush, in the dirt, can’t be fun. But Little Joe had other ideas, she had no intentions of being caught.

Last month she disappeared for a few days, when she turned up again she was skinny again. So either she miscarried or she had her kittens. We looked for them, but lets face it she’s not going to hide them in an obvious location. She came every night for dinner and I fed her as much as she could eat. When she was eating I checked her belly and it was obvious she was nursing. I kept asking her who was kitten sitting and I begged her to bring me her kittens…like she could truly understand what I was saying. Still, I hoped that she would bring them around when they got bigger. I hated the thought of more unaltered cats roaming the streets, making the problem worse. For some reason I felt obligated to help Little Joe, it’s not her fault she never got fixed. She’s a very sweet cat. Recently she’s been very affectionate. I sat down with her for about 20 minutes the other night and she was rubbing up against me and purring.

This morning I came down to the garage to leave for work. Little Joe was in the garage, which is unusual. She usually comes at night. She was very talkative, again that’s unusual for her. I thought she was hungry so I put food out, but she kept talking. I walked to my car and I noticed what I thought was Heatley (another stray we feed) in his bed. Upon further inspection I realized SHE HAD BROUGHT ME HER KITTENS. She was trying to tell me, she was SO proud of them.

We have cat beds in the garage, because we’re crazy cat people. She’d put her kittens in one of the beds. They’re too small to walk there, she had to carry them, one by one, and put them in the bed…all four of them. They’re about 3-4 weeks old (8 ounces), they do that crazy wobble walk and then fall over. This was the opportunity I was hoping for. I shut the garage door and successfully trapped her. She wasn’t happy but I really didn’t want her to take off again. I called the shelter and convinced the animal control officer to come out and get everyone. We had to net poor Little Joe; she tried to climb up the garage door. I know that’s probably not what she was expecting, but this is the best possible outcome. Now she can go into foster care with her kittens, she’ll get plenty of food and everyone is going to get checked out by the vet. When the kittens no longer need her she will go up for adoption. Everyone will get spayed or neutered and best of all, no one will be living on the streets. It felt like such a huge accomplishment, I worried about her and her kittens. Now I know everyone is safe and I offered to foster everyone.

What a little determination will do

see also

Since summer is rapidly approaching we decided to get the screen door fixed. The tape wasn’t working very well and the hole had gotten bigger (thanks to Hurley and Pippi sticking their heads through it) Jack was able to squeeze through the hole with no problem. He originally made the hole because he wanted the bag of bird seed that was outside, near the screen. So he picked a hole in the screen and pulled the bird seed bag through the hole, making a giant mess. When I found him and the mess he just looked at me as if to say "yes? Is there a problem?"

It was SO nice not to have a hole anymore. There was no need to worry about the duct tape covering the hole, it was wonderful. We agreed that we wouldn’t leave the glass door open without one of us supervising. We weren’t going to leave the glass door open unless one of us was in the room. Even if we went upstairs we shut the glass door, because surely Jack couldn’t pick a hole in the screen if we were WATCHING. But Jack is smarter than us, and apparently much craftier than we give him credit for.

I came home from work one day last week and Bob said “JACK DID IT AGAIN” Bob was sitting here at the computer and he heard the sound of screen ripping. He jumped up and between the time he jumped up and ran across the room Jack had ripped a new hole in the screen. Apparently Jack was so focused on the task at hand that he didn’t even look up as Bob ran across the room, yelling at him while spraying him with the water bottle. He was far too engrossed in his project to care about being sprayed in the face with water.

Everyone gives me advice on what I should do to ‘train’ Jack. The problem with Jack is he’s not afraid of anything and he doesn’t care. If he wants to do something, he’s going to do it. He’s an opportunist, he’ll just wait until we aren’t paying attention or we’re not home. He follows me around when I vacuum or steam clean the carpets, he’s INTERESTED in what I’m doing. He’s not scared of the vacuum cleaner; he wants to know how it all works. All the other cats scatter and hide under the beds…not Jack. The door bell rings and everyone scatters, but not Jack. Jack sits at the top of the stairs and greets everyone as they enter. He flinches when I spray him with the water bottle but he doesn’t STOP what he’s doing. Every once in a while he’ll walk away and find something else to do, but eventually he goes back to whatever it was he was trying to do. He doesn’t forget, I think he figures *I* will. I really believe he just decides to go back to it later, when I’ve forgotten because he WILL go back and try again. The whole screen thing was the perfect example. We saw him inspecting the screen. We KNEW it was a matter of time. We just assumed that we could prevent him from doing it if we were in the room. We underestimated him. It’s almost like he had one claw out like a razor blade and quickly made his move like a surgeon.

So now we’re right back to where we started…putting duct tape over a hole in the screen. *Sigh*

First the cat beds...now this?

see also

Bob found five tiny little cards right outside our front door. I put my car key next to them for a little perspective on how tiny they are. They’re the perfect size for cats….we both got a big kick out of the fact that they were practically on our porch. If I didn’t know better I’d say Pippi or Jack were hosting poker games. I know that’s not the case, but to crazy cat people it’s not that big of a stretch. They move their cat beds; they open drawers, cabinets and doors…why couldn’t they play cards?