Here it is! we have our first guest post:
The Blue and Green-Eyed Tuxedo Cat Who Kept Beating the Odds
by our twitta friend Alex !
This post is about George, the amazing tuxedo cat who has beaten so many odds against him.
George, who is about 3.5 years old now, was part of a 90-cat rescue in late winter of 2013. Two local Humane Societies joined forces when they heard of the problem in a town nearby. Mine was one of them. The Humane Society in whose jurisdiction the rescue occurred took 60 cats, and mine took 30. How fortunate for us that George came here!
George was a very sick cat when he was rescued. He was immediately hospitalized by one of the clinics affiliated with the local Humane Society. He was full of infections, worms, and dehydrated. He spent a month on IV drip as he recuperated.
While I don’t have the exact number, many of the cats rescued at the same time did not survive. George has a fighting spirit though and he made it. It might be because of his relative youth, no one is sure.
The rescue took place on a rural property, where no one would have noticed the number of cats or their condition. I’m not sure who called in the authorities; possibly the postman or a family member. According to George’s rescuers, he was one of about 10 “favourites” kept in the house by the elderly owners. He had been declawed on his front paws (grrrr) and I like to think it’s because he must have shredded up their draperies and furniture first.
I spoke at length with @Smiglilley, a Twitter friend, about this, who presented some great suppositions for what happened to make things so bad. As we bandied about ideas, I came to a few conclusions I could “live with.”
1. The couple was elderly and needed to go into care (that did happen).
2. Because of that, they were probably slowly overwhelmed by an increasing number of cats who kept breeding. (George was not neutered. Front claws out, but not neutered. Grrrr.)
3. George and the other cats who were “favourites” in the house were still neglected medically, as were all the ones outside in the barn and on the property. Hence, the infections and worms; even the dehydration. I hope with everything in me that his front paws’ declawing was not DIY.
4. As the numbers of cats increased, the well-being of the elderly couple on that rural property was declining simultaneously. It was a disaster waiting to happen. And it did.
In the overall muddle of too many cats, declining mental and physical health of the elderly couple, the deaths of unknown cats, George emerged at one of my local shelters.
My dad was looking for an adult Calico Cat. He had his heart set on a calico. He’d rescued a calico kitten up north the year before and he missed that connection. One day, he called my sister and I and said “I’m ready.” Our mum had died not long before and they always had cats. He kept thinking of that calico kitten.
So my dad, my sister and I went on a calico hunt at the local Humane Society and local shelters. At the Humane Society he held and cuddled every calico there. Something said “no” to him, he said later, so we went off to the first shelter. Another calico, another cuddle. No, said dad. We were starting to think maybe he felt he was wrong to get a cat after all.
As we headed back here, I remembered a small shelter tucked away in a plaza. I said, “Let’s try there, and if dad doesn’t find one, we’ll call it a day.” So off we went to the third shelter. None of us even noticed George at first. Our eyes scanned the cages for calicos.
We went into small lounge, where the shelter staff brought us the two calicos they had at the time. One was friendly and loving; the other was frightened. Dad held them both, cooed to them, asked the staff to leave us for a bit. Dad told my sister and I “these are beautiful. I don’t know why I am hesitating.” We told him he probably was not ready yet, and we’d try again in a month.
The staff came back in. One of the staff said, do you like Tuxies? We have a beautiful tuxie who just became ready for adoption. He was sick for a long time and she told us the general details of his stories. Dad said no, but I said yes, please! My last cat (18 years old at OTRB time) was a tuxie. For me, there’s something about Tuxies. In came George, looking serene and all-knowing.
They set him down, he came up to each of the three of us and head-bumped us on the leg. Then he turned around, jumped up on dad, jumped up on the back of the chair he sat in, and proceeded to wrap his body around my dad’s neck. Dad said, “this is my cat.” As with most cats, they choose us, not the other way around. Dad must have instinctually known that and so he “waited” until George picked him. (I was already smitten.)
It was love at first sight. He wouldn’t be ready for another week, they said. They wanted to retest his blood & stool one last time. Dad went out and bought a litter box, kibble, treats & toys. I dusted off my pet carrier. A week later, George was his.
NEXT BLOG POSTS: I will do future posts on George’s #unfug personality, and how he came to be with me instead of my dad (who remains heartbroken he couldn’t keep George. Let’s leave it at allergies for now).
On Twitter, I am @AlexandraLSmit2
(copyright all pics in this blogpost by @AlexandraLSmit2, used with her permission here)
me iz planning my next #Unfug