Thursday, August 31, 2006

Jules Died Two Days Ago in Portland

Jules was huge Siamese I trapped in N. Albany. The barn owner or his Santiam Christian girl barn helpers had tried to kill Jules with a shovel. He had a horrendous slash wound on the side of his neck and throat. Jules also tested positive for FIV.

That was over two years ago. I couldn't let Jules be euthanized without him experiencing good humans. My friend Keni, POPPA's director, who lives in Hillsboro, took in Jules.

Jules died in love two days ago, at 2:00 a.m., wrapped in Keni's arms.

She feels guilt that she didn't spend more quality time with him in the years since she adopted him. She said at the end, he just wanted her near him, wanted to head butt her, to purr, to be petted and held.

She feels guilt. Can you believe it? She gave a hard luck cat a beautiful new chance, a chance he'd not gotten in N. Albany, not even from so called Christians.

I want to hug Keni, for being wonderful. She's worked her butt off for years, as a volunteer, running POPPA Inc. I reminded her tonight, that just this week alone, her hard work has saved 17 cats and countless thousands of others, who would have been their offspring. Just this week alone. POPPA gives me the money, paid to vets, to get cats in this area fixed. They've done so for years. The individual cats saved number in the thousands. The births prevented number in the millions.

Keni is a tough woman, hard core, hard working, hard drinking and with a soft heart. She feels guilt. That is unbelievable.

Who should feel guilt? That cold hearted N. Albany man and those fake Christian girls. But if your heart beats without warmth, how can you feel guilt?

I trapped many cats for that couple. I relocated many cats. I crawled through hay bales in a tight loft and stole kittens from certain death. And then I trapped Jules. Beautiful massive Jules. I was told he'd been abandoned by some folk down the road who claimed him as theirs once, then moved off and left him to fend for himself. So he came to the barn and found hate there too. And people who claimed to be patriots and saints who tried to kill him and admonished me for my kindness.

My kindness included hours of free labor for their guiltless godless souls. I don't think anything good of them, to remember, nothing good at all, nothing noteworthy, except to remember how hateful they were about Jules coming around and how they criticized me for being too kind as I worked to help them control their cat population. They did not give me a dime in return.

After I trapped Jules, the two teen girls walked up. They worked for the couple, cleaning stalls in the barn sometimes. They went to Santiam Christian school. I thought they'd want to see Jules. Most young people would be nice about it, want to see the cat, especially young girls, and be concerned about the huge slash on his neck.

Not these sicko Christians. They didn't want to look and offered, not looking at me or Jules, to the man AGAIN that they would kill Jules for him and do it right this time. Then they giggled, sick little high pitched jerky dumb blond fake Christian girl giggles.

My smile turned cold clear to my insides to hear that from young girls. I wondered what they were teaching kids out at that Christian school. Seemed like the air even turned cold. I shut my car and shut Jules away from these dead people and their dead hearts, and took him away quickly so neither of us would freeze.

I never returned to that barn. When I see those people I feel ice forming inside, like I'm approaching a glacier in human form.

Jules thrived with Keni. I saw him this April when I was up to help with the start of season sale at Recycled Gardens. I saw Lynx, too, the other Albany Siamese Keni took, also FIV positive, who also had been abused over and over by several Linn County residents and families. Lynx looked good. So did Jules.

Jules died at 2:13 a.m. two mornings ago in Keni's loving arms of FIV related system shut down. He was somewhere betweeen ten and twelve years old.

Bless you, Jules.

I am grateful there are people like Keni Cyr-Rumble out there, willing to love a big old Albany-abused FIV positive Siamese without apology and to cry tears when he dies.

17 Cats Fixed and 7 Cats Placed This Week

Monday---8 cats fixed:

FIXED: Four juvenile male orange tabby kittens from Monroe House of Orange.
FATE: Two or the four orange males are still here awaiting homes.
Two went to a home in Eugene together.

FIXED: 1 Boondoggle female silver tabby kitten. Little Bit is the kitten I found four days after the camps of Albany's homeless Camp Boondoggle, were bulddozed. She was ten days old, severely dehydrated and screaming her head off from amidst a pile of rubble. She made the two pound spay weight grade and was spayed Monday.

FATE: She is now in a home her Albany fosterer found for her.

FIXED: Two adult female ferals and one five month old male feral from the Corvallis Homeless Camps. This makes 19 cats caught and fixed there.

FATE: The two adult females moved into a barn home situation. The young male is still here, awaiting an option for placement.

Tuesday. Three cats fixed--2 males, 1 female.

FIXED: Two five month old males from the couple who adopted Taylor, formerly of Maxine Street. They'd taken in these males as kittens from a friend in Albany with an unfixed female. I am still attempting to get ahold of the friend so that female can get fixed. The two boys were returned to their owner after they were neutered.

FIXED: All black female, abandoned in south town, caught by a neighbor as she was having kittens. The three kittens are six weeks old now, and it was time for the mom to be spayed. Those two tenants left behind many cats, all unfixed. I trapped four of them and got them fixed some time ago. Abby, the Abbysinian mix, pregnant at spay, as were others, is still here awaiting adoption.

FATE: This black female, now spayed and being fostered by the neighbor, and the three kittens, are all up for adoption.

Thursday: Three females, three males fixed.

FIXED: Again from Heatherdale Trailer Park in Albany: One all black female, owned, and two males, owned; one all black, one lynx point Siamese.

FATE: All three cats returned to owner. Must get the final female, who shot out the door this morning and could not be found for today's fixing.

FIXED: Large male from House of Orange and the final cat needing fixed there. In total, 17 cats were fixed from that trailer.

FATE:The adults, including the male being fixed today, were returned and nine kittens removed, fixed and put up for adoption. Of those nine kittens, four remain unadopted as of today.

FIXED: Luna, the female medium hair torbi kitten caught at Beazall County Park. Her mother and two siblings were never seen again. I set traps and searched for days, then the caretaker took over trapping and caught only a tame previously spayed owned adult female, who stayed here for days, while we searched for a possible owner. Turns out she is a barn cat who lives about a mile away and the barns owners were on vacation.

FATE: Luna has been adopted by her fosterer, a very kind student.

Cattyhop, the gray tabby tux bobtail Slaughterhouse colony kitten. Of six Slaughterhouse colony kittens, she is the only one still without a home. If you recall, these are the kittens I trapped July 30 when trapping for adults at a colony near a Slaughterhouse. The kittens were all gravely ill with squirting diarrhea and I went nearly nuts trying to get them and myself through this. With the help of my wonderful vet, Corvallis Cat Care, they all came out of it, healthy and wonderful. Cattyhop, the tiniest of them and once the sickest, made the two pound spay weight and is being fixed today. Then she can go into any home willing to love her forever.

FATE: Cattyhop will come back here to await adoption.

17 Cats FIXED this week alone. Seven cats placed this week so far. (Apache, from Camp Boondoggle, Little Bit, from Camp Boondoggle, Odie and Tailgater--House of Orange brothers, Jeffy, the old Jefferson brown tabby female, and the two feral females Bobo and Janie).

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Reassurance Given Me by Purring Kittens

A pile of kittens and me. The five orange kittens and two torti's had all been curled up in my bathroom sink. I leaned over and hugged them all. I've had a stressful couple of days and I sure needed a bunch of purring kittens piling all over me to let me know they love me and that I'm OK. Tailgater wanted to lick my face.

The week has been stressful, with several adoptors backing out, even after I travelled with the kitten they had indicated they would adopt, rather long distance to deliver.

There's been the stress of relocating ferals.

I worked quite a lot with those folks to get those two ferals from the Corvallis Homeless camps in there. I had told them there was an adoption fee required and told them it cost $45 per spay on each of those two females.

These are very well off people, and very religious. She handed me some bills as I left, a $20 on the outside.

I was driving back to Corvallis Cat Care, where the old Jefferson female was being tested. When I got there, I opened the bills. I had thought, seeing the $20 on the outside, that they might have actually paid the entire cost. I knew they could easily afford it. I knew they were religious people because they talked about religion and their pastor and all that, while I worked out there, helping get the containment cage set up.

I opened the bills. One twenty and five ones. $25 was the big donation for getting two spayed females and a lot of help from me. $25. It was unbelievable. I joked about it afterwards some, that rich people get rich by stomping on poor people's backs, like mine had just been stomped upon. But it wasn't a joke.

A rescuer walks a fine line between the threat of not finding homes for cats and becoming overloaded, or not being able to save lives that could be saved. Yes, rescuers usually ask for an adoption fee, a minimal fee that does not come close to reimbursing costs incurred. But the fee helps a person keep going at least.

It's not liking helping fix and place cats only helps cats. It helps entire communities become more livable. It reduces disease spread. It helps the environment.

If a person can't or won't pay an adoption fee, with a tame housepet rescue, usually that's a good indicator of a person's character and ability to care for a pet. With barn cats, ferals, usually we're desperate to place them. People like myself only relocate ferals when there is absolutely no other way for them to survive. That has been the case with the Corvallis homeless camp cats because of the extreme development destroying the areas where they were safe and being fed.

But it is hard to hold a feral while one waits for a barn home to come open somewhere. So, when you get a barn home op, you jump for it and hope the people will follow instructions. You also hope, since most people want barn cats to work for them, because they have a mouse or rat problem, that the people will give you a donation.

Some don't. Most do and they are grateful. These people could have afforded to pay the full price. Should I go back and demand it? It's always a desire, when you know they have money and know they know they screwed you. But I'd be walking a fine line. They might tell me to take those cats and scram. Then I'd have to hold them here and wait, maybe a couple months, incurring even more costs caring for them in the meantime.

But to be stomped as I was yesterday, cheated by people who could afford to pay full price, which wasn't much anyhow, makes one swallow stuff, anger, resentment. Makes a person feel used, like nobody cares about anything but themselves. It makes me sad and want to cry.

I want to believe people will pay fair price and be honest. In most cases, people are not honest or fair. I guess when people start talking about religion, despite the fact I've been abused and used worse by religious people than by nonreligious people, the stereotype holds in my mind, that religious people won't screw me over. So it is a shock to have it happen. I should learn the lesson once and for all.

The stress of empathy with the abused Jefferson female, getting her tested and finally into a home. I paid for the test myself but the vet gave me a nice break on the price.

The neighbors can do what they want with their property and I know that. Things have gone downhill as far as being partially friendly neighbors since they painted the white property line to seperate the two properties and began to complain to me, then my landlord, I guess as justification for building fences and gates and putting up lights. Their main complaint? Sometimes people who came to visit me, to adopt a cat or pick up one I'd gotten fixed for them, would back part way into their driveway when they left.

They didn't want my mailbox near theirs. They don't like the two rentals next to them.

So last night, when their daughter, now living with them, came over and ended up telling me she and her former husband got rid of the two kittens they adopted from me over a year ago, it didn't set well for already poor neighbor relations. Ah well. I never see them since they fenced me out anyhow and I don't care to.

Too much bad and high intensity stress without the balance of good stress or positive experience on the other side. I must find some people to pal around with, joke around with, do things with.

 Posted by Picasa

Me and the House of Orange kittens. I love them. Tailgater is leaving for a home today. Posted by Picasa

Rasto, one of four orange brothers. Posted by Picasa

Puzzwuzz defending herself from Rasto, her brother, who wants to wrestle. Posted by Picasa

Tailgater on my lap in the bathroom. Posted by Picasa

Tailgater---wonderful little boy from House of Orange.  Posted by Picasa

Puzzwuzz--House of Orange spayed torti kitten. Posted by Picasa

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Fall Apart

Tonight, things have fallen apart. Stress.

The Eugene people will not be adopting the orange tabby kitten. My decision. They're drunks. Professional people with good jobs, and yet they're drunks. Last night was one night. He said he'd had a few beers.

I was to meet the wife with the cat at her workplace. Then he left several messages, that he didn't want me to do that, because she'd been late to work, so her boss was on edge with her. So I didn't take the kitten down.

I expected to hear from them this evening. I didn't. I finally called. This time I talked to the wife who was not even lucid from alcohol consumption. I would guess it's an every night thing, drinking into stupor there. Not a nice home for a kitten. I made an excuse and hung up. I won't call them back.

N was supposed to pick up the cat I got fixed for her. She didn't, wasn't home and finally said to meet her and D at the band concert in the park with the cat. They sometimes go to those things. I never do and didn't want to go tonight, because I'm tired out, but I told her I could drop off the cat there. She didn't work today.

So anyhow, I had just sent off the Jefferson old gal with her new owner and was ready to leave with N's just fixed female, when I see a huge black cat with multiple tags on a collar under my car. I'd never seen the cat before. I pull him out and the tags have a Philomath number. I put him in my shed. He's very aggressive towards my cats.

I call the number several times and leave messages. I reverse lookup the number and get the name and address. I leave N messages stating it was now after 9:00 and I didn't know if they were going to come here, after the concert, to pick up the cat since I didn't show with her, or go home, that I have gotten stalled with this stray.

Then suddenly someone knocks. I yell through the door "Who is it?" "A neigbhor" is the reply. I open the door and don't recognize the person. She says she's just moved in around here. I said "where do you live?" She points to the house of my up and coming neighbors. "I'm living with my parents and do you have my cat?" I assumed then she was seperated from her husband and very recently. I should have been soft over that. That's hard.

I said "You adopted two kittens from me about a year ago. Where are they?" This cat was not either of them. She said they didn't like them and gave them away to someone with a lot of land. I was furious and very sad for those kittens, now over a year old. I couldn't look at her. She got her cat.

I now live next to someone who abandoned two kittens I adopted to her in good faith as a good faith gesture to her parents, with whom I was neighbors. It was only later I came to understand they're not really "neighbors" in the emotive sense of the word. They are neighbors only because they live beside me.

Man, what a challenge it will be to live next to a person who did that to two precious kittens because she didn't like them after all. Ah well. The cat she has now is well cared for, it appeared. At least there's that.

N came and got her cat then and was snotty, too, claimed I hadn't come help her clip the kittens toenails and that she had waited for me. Her partner rolled his eyes, knowing she was lying. She was. She has several messages at home from me. I called her, trying to catch her at home so I could come clip the kittens nails. So I was stressed by this time and didn't need to deal with N's shit, too. I told her I wasn't her slave.

I feel like a slave a lot of the time.

Things fell apart today.

I had counted on the orange kittens' adoption and I had thought those people were ok. But the conversation with the drunk wife tonight was over the top. No way would I put a kitten in the path of nightly drunks.

The House of Orange people have some friend who wants to adopt one of the boys and that's good. They are going to get one of them maybe even tomorrow.

One, maybe two, will still be adopted by a different set of Eugene people.

We now have a barn home for three more homeless camp cats and the woman will be trying to catch them. The Jefferson old gal tested negative for FIV/Felk and went to her new home. But, she has injuries, trauma injuries. One front tooth is broken off at gumline from blunt force trauma and that bad ear? It was no hematoma, but an old burn wound.

She's been abused. And severely.

She'll need that tooth stump taken out. It hurts her, the vet said. Most of her front teeth are broken out. She sustained a hit to the face or a kick and that ear burned.

She'll never go back to downtown Jefferson. She's safe now from whomever did this to her.

It was a hard long day, I tell you. LOng and I was already tired to begin with. When you find out a cat has been severely abused, just kind of turns you inside yourself.

Then when that woman, now living next door, told me about what she did with those kittens she'd adopted from me, I just went sour inside.

Captain Torti and Army Orange

House of orange kittens include two tortis (one pictured) and seven orange kittens. Two of the orange females have gone to homes. One orange male is leaving today and perhaps two more tomorrow. The final orange female is promised out to a family in Portland. But I'll still have the tortis and at least one orange male here for adoption. Posted by Picasa

Monday, August 28, 2006

Paid: A six pack of Henry's for cat job. But I think I'm worth a 12 pack.

W picked up Beaco, the previously spayed owned Kings Valley cat I trapped at the county park, and returned her to her rightful barn. In payment, she brought me a six pack of Henry's. I think the job was worth a 12 pack.

I was out there searching out that feral mom and kittens. I trapped one feral kitten and found her a home. I got swarmed and stung by wasps, because I was drenched in tuna I think--trap bait I'd spilled on myself, then I killed them. I tracked down four bobcat kills. I got poison oak. And then the previously spayed tame cat got caught in a trap I left there, for the caretaker to use to try to catch the feral mom and remaining kittens.

Hey, wasn't my fault he couldn't tell a tame cat from a wild hissing feral, as he described her--the purring kneading previously spayed owned neighbor's barn cat.

Not my problem.

I housed her here and she liked it. She slept in my bed. She's cool and there's no denying that so I didn't. She was on a stylish vacation from barn cat duty. EVeryone deserves a vacation.

So, what do you think? Remember I got swarmed by wasps and stung about five times. That's worth a twelve pack in itself, I think. Where is the cat trapper's union rep when you need them?

I drank three beers about an hour ago. At least I started an hour ago. And I returned kitten ad calls. There might be a law about returning kitten calls with a blood alcohol level. If not, maybe there should be.

One Eugene man who wants an orange boy, returned my call by saying "Is this the Corvallis person with the kitten or a telemarketer. If you're a telemarketer, FUCK OFF!" I called him back and he'd had a couple beers, too! I'm taking them a kitten tomorrow if I can work it in, because I'm really busy with cat business. I don't know if I will be able to remember everything I'm supposed to do tomorrow concerning cats. That makes me laugh.

Oh, here's something really could make a person um, searching for right word, um, down on people. That's ;three words. Sue me, ok? Blood from turnup. Know what that phrase means? It does apply to anyone wanting to sue me for anything. So good luck on that.

So these people in McMinnville wanted a kitten and we'd been communicating even up to two hours before I left for Salem to pick up all the fixed kittens and cats. I went directly from there all the way to McMinnville, to faithfully stupidly deliver a kitten to assholes. Because when I got there, they said "Oh, um, we decided not to get a kitten. We know we should have called." Oh, ya think? Stupid selfish dumbfucks. I just drove 45 minutes to get here, ya stupid dumbfucks. I cursed all the way out of McMinnville and for ten miles beyond. Stupid fucking dumpfucks with stupid fucking idiot parents who taught them selfishness and disrepsect is way cool.

And the barn cat people I think are nice. They're taking the two adults J trapped yesterday and I'll have to place the male six month old kitten. J has been running an ad for barn cats. She gave me two numbers of people who had called wanting barn cats. One of the numbers was mine. I said "What the fuck?" "Oh," she said, "I don't know where my brain is." (her brain is burned out on psyche drugs, you know, she knows a shrink pusher and that's most of her problem).

So I called the second number she gave me, and they thought I was a harrasser and were really upset, said there was no one by that name there, and why was I calling to talk about barn cats. Then they hung up on me.

So I left J a message and told her that second number was wrong too and I got in some trouble over calling them. She didn't answer.

Here's what I am supposed to do tomorrow: Wait for the elderly chinese man to drop off the two kittens they took in from a friend of theirs, so I can get them fixed. His wife stopped by here kind of mad. He'd taken Taylor home. She says she works 90 hours a week and he doesn't do anything, but go around and bring back the likes of Taylor, then doesn't even clean litterboxes or do anything to help. She showed me her heart monitor to prove how much stress she's under from working so much and having a husband who doesn't do anything but make her life harder. She's like 50 and he's like a hundred. I gave him Taylor out of respect for an elderly Chinese man. I didn't know, you know, the rest of the story. NOt my fault. I said "He said you had even a seperate cat house." "Well, we do, but he doesn't help take care of the cats or even the chickens." So I'm getting the two older male kittens fixed, then they can go outside, which will make things easier on her.

So, I am taking three cats up to be fixed in Jefferson. The third one I got to pick up in South Town. Then I Stop and get my haircut by someone I know in Millersburg who thinks I look like a shaggy dog or ungroomed feral Persian.

Then I must be at my Corvallis vet's at 10:00 a.m. with the Jefferson old gal to get her tested. If she's negative, she goes to J. Yay. Another cat out of my house. Another happy ending. That deserves cracking another beer, from W's six pack partial payment for job well done.

Then, I will run Tailgater, one of the four orange boys, to his home with the FUCK YOU if you're a telemarketer guy and his wife.

Two more orange boys are spoken for and may be leaving here Wednesday.

Oh wait, first I have to drop off the two ferals from the homeless camp at the barn home. They weren't ready today, because they hadn't fixed th econtainment cage because there wasn't power out in the barn for some reason and they only use power tools, not hand tools. So we solved the entire issue of where they would go quite easily and it involved no power tools at all. So I must drop them off there tomorrow.

And I have a dental appointment in the early afternoon.

And I will pick up the three cats who got fixed in the late afternoon and deliver them to their homes. And there's other stuff I know and I know I've forgottten and I will not end up remembering to do probably extremely important things. But oh well, like the world will end or something.

The real issue of this post is: did I deserve more than a six pack for the County park cat and big cat and wasp work I did? I still got marks from those wasp stings and poison oak rashes, if that information helps you in your vote.

Barn Home Blues

I went by to visit the barn home taking the Corvallis Homeless Camp cats on the way home from dropping off 8 cats, including the homeless camp cats, in Salem for fixing. It's a nice place. A really nice place. Church people. Friendly.

They wanted to know how I got started on this, so I told them the short version of it. So the lady immediately wants to end it happily and said "And so now, you have a happy nice life." I said, "So not exactly." Then I told her or tried to, because I don't think they are wanna be believers that there are people out there in this world, or right in Corvallis, who struggle with such things as money, lonliness or housing.

They've got money. They seem very sheltered (naive?) about the realities many people face daily. They seem to shelter their kids from even the knowledge of how some people struggle hard. That's nice for them, but what happens is folks like this end up fairly ignorant about the way things are out there for a whole lot of people, including myself.

I told them some stories about the difficult situations I've taken animals from, how difficult this work is, and how horrible the suffering is out there for the cats.

And then, things began to turn sour.

I had thought they'd said at the beginning when I arrived they'd take all three. Then they started in about how they really only wanted just one feral, as a ratter.

I said these cats must go in at least pairs or they won't stick around and if the cat stuck around, it would be very lonely.

The daughter brought me a box of rat poison they'd put out the day before to show me. She was worried it might hurt the cats. I said "where did you put that out?" She'd put it right in the kennel where the cats are to go. She said she looked and there were not even any crumbs left, so the rats had eaten it.

I said then you need to block that hole, where the rats are coming from under the barn into that area where the cats will be contained for ten days, because if they eat dead or dying or poisoned rats, they'll get sick or die.

Then the mother pipes up, but that's what we want, for them to kill the rats. I said, then don't be putting out poison or you're going to kill the cats. I said 'besides, the dead or dying rats get into the food chain otherwise also when owls and hawks eat them, then die as a result.'

Then they tell me they want the kitten probably and one adult. I said I can't hold a feral adult at my place and that cat will have to go back and likely will never be trapped again and that kitten won't be a mouser for months. I told them it'd be easier for me to hold a younger cat than an adult for possibly placement if another barn home turns up. Besides, I said, the kitten is five months old and we're talking three to four months age difference only between the "kitten" and the adults.

So then they say, after hearing all my stories about how people make it difficult for me, demand so much for nothing, of me, that they want me to stop by tonight and show them the cats then they'll decide who they'll take, but they added, "we don't want to make things harder for you, but...." Only the grandmother seemed very uncomfortable with the way things were turning.

I remained polite. Inside, however, I was grinding......

I don't know what will happen now. If they refuse to agree to quit the rat poison, they'll get no cats from me and I will contact the Prineville woman again, and hope this time she'll take them on.

Ember, left, Rasto and Stacy from House of Orange. Ember is spoken for, as are at least two of the orange boys. All four orange boys will be neutered today, along with three Corvallis homeless camp ferals and Little Bit, the final unfixed Boondoggle kitten, already spoken for and who has been fostered in Albany since I found her screaming, as a ten day old kitten, in the midst of the Camp rubble. Posted by Picasa

Distracted by Puzzwuzz, the other torti, Tailgater glances away. A split second later, Fuzzywuddle springs. Posted by Picasa

Tailgater defends his corner. Posted by Picasa

Kitten fight. Fuzzywuddle backs Tailgater into a corner and intimidates him. Posted by Picasa

Sunday, August 27, 2006

Two More Corvallis Homeless Camp Cats Caught

The lady trapping the homeless camp cats called and said she'd trapped a kitten. I thought "Shoot. What will I do with a kitten?" I have a barn home for two adults. I told her to set another trap and bring the kitten over. It's not really a kitten. This gorgeous long hair white and black cat is about four or five months old. So I told her she'd do as the second barn cat and to go pick up the other trap. Twenty minutes later she returned. In the meantime, while she brought the kitten here, she'd caught the black female.

What to do now. Maybe I can talk them into three. After all, the one is half a cat really, you know. Yeah, that's what I will tell them.

I'm telling Beaco, as I call the owned Kings Valley Highway cat, that she needs to tell her owners she's been on an adventure vacation and the "eartip" she got inadvertantely was just a crazy thing she did on her vacation when high on catnip, akin to a tattoo one might get in Cancun after a long night of drinking.

I'm having the park caretakers return her on Tuesday. I told them, since she had roamed like there wasn't any food left in that barn, that maybe the feral mom and two kittens left, that I was trapping for, ended up over there and ate her food.

All these cat complications could drive one nuts trying to figure out.

So the four orange House of Orange male kittens are being fixed tomorrow. Three are already spoken for. And the three homeless camp ferals. And Little Bit, the final unfixed Camp Boondoggle kitten.

Cattyhop and Luna will have to wait on getting fixed. Luna is the Beazall County Park kitten whom I trapped and is now in a home.


I took Apache to his new home, which was a great match for him. On the way back, I stopped by Foster Reservoir and went for a really long swim.

There were lots of people intent on escaping the heat out doing the same thing. Lots of people and families paddling around in the water on anything that might float, or swimming or having barbecues.

Yes, there were the motor boaters, some of them obnoxious, others nice.

One group in one boat, towing older kids on several tubes told me I should not be swimming outside of the little swimming area at the park. I said "This lake is for everybody, not just motor boaters. And besides, this is a 5 mph zone." Then he made a crack about how it wasn't wise to swim, even in the slow boat zones, and he sped off at way more than 5 mph. Wasn't much of an example for those kids, I didn't think.

I swam a long long ways. I finally swam across the arm in the 5 mph zone to the rocks and began jumping off them, time and time again, into the lake. I love those rocks. I love sitting on the underwater rocks or climbing onto the perfectly formed "chair" rock warm from all day in the sun.

The water, green against those rocks, descends endlessly against the cliffs. I peer into the flickering depths, the green water against the ragged and jutting rocks, on down into the emerald depths. It pulls me, the water, draws me to it, comforts me, rocks me, like my mother is the water and wants me back in her womb.

I swam back and I came home.

I think about Apache. I try to shut it out but I think about him. He's scared down there in his new home. He doesn't know where I am or why I left him there. It'll take him a week maybe, to understand he's there for good and to accept it. It's a good home, but every cat loves it here, with me more than maybe almost anywhere. So it's hard for them to move on and maybe most homes aren't like here, with all the love and play and fun and comraderie. I wish I could watch over them all forever and make sure they're happy.

So the already spayed cat here trapped at Beazall County Park does belong to neighbors who have been gone. They called the park caretakers after the park caretakers got ahold of a friend of theirs to ask them if it might be their cat. They said they'd be back Wednesday and that there's food in the barn and to go just dump her back there. I told the park caretkaker "no", that likely any food in the barn has been eaten by something, hence the roaming she did that got her into a trap. So she'll stay with me or with them until those folks come home, but she won't go back there until then.

Displaced by Development. 17 Corvallis Homeless Camp Cats So Far Get Fixed and a New Chance.

The latest Corvallis Homeless Camp catch--unfixed black and white, unknown sex. This is cat number 17 caught back in the large area behind Carmike and Safeway and K-mart, where the strays, once fed by the homeless, are being forced out, as are the homeless themselves, due to development.

Home Depot and other businesses are going in and the area where the cats once lived and where two homeless camps were, has been bulldozed. There's not much time left for the cats left roaming there.

Fortunately, a lady who has fed them in the past alerted me to the situation and as I trap them, they are being fixed and relocated.

It's hard turning up barn homes. Hard, I tell you. But now we have a place for two more. And this guy gets to be one of the lucky ones saved. Out of 17 so far.

The woman who had once fed them actually now is trapping them, since I can't be everywhere at once. This guy was her first catch and she surprised herself by catching him. I don't think she thought she could do such a thing. She did and she saved him because she did.

This cat will be fixed tomorrow and go directly to its barn home, where he will be contained for ten days, so he can get accustomed to his new digs. Hopefully, we'll have him a friend or relative real soon from same locale.

Relocations are tricky to do, and success depends on the willingness of the new caretakers to follow strict relocation guidelines.

One tantamount relocation principle: always relocate in at least pairs, of relatives or friends. The cats are much more likely to stick around and be happy, if they have a familiar friend or sibling at their side.

It's scarey for a feral cat or any cat, to go to a new situation. They have no idea where they are or if they will find food. They don't know the dangers in their new area.

It is like if you were suddenly abducted by strangers and planted in a foreign country---alone! You don't know that you're not going to be killed. You don't know where to find shelter or food. Not unless you have a friend along, and a friendly host who may not speak your verbal language, and yet there are languages every creature understands. Posted by Picasa

Hard Luck Jefferson Old Gal Finds Her Way to Easy Street

The old gal from Jefferson who finally gets to live life on easy street. Her left ear is deformed from a hematoma. Her left eye has a draining scratch wound. She has an old severe wound on her throat, like she was grabbed by a dog and somehow survived that, too. She's grateful she's getting to kick back and eat everything she wants and be petted. And she's getting a real home. Thank God she's getting a real home. It's enough to bring tears to a cat trapper's eyes. Posted by Picasa

Dead Father's Estate. I Get a Letter From a Lawyer.

I got a letter from Jay Johns/Cobb law firm out of Eugene. It's kind of a form letter, stating that my brother is the personal representative of my father's estate and that it has gone into probate and if any party wants to contest the will, which I have not seen, they must do so in the specified amount of time.

Getting a letter from Jay Johns did not evoke pleasant memories.

When I was desperately attempting to get justice for being beaten at Portland Adventist, Jay Johns was the only attorney I could get an audience with. That's because my brother is a big client of his.

I went alone. I'd never been in an attorney's office before. These were fancy offices. The attorney talked a mile a minute, didn't listen, and told me I couldn't afford him, since there would be expert witnesses to hire, etc. He refused to do it on commission or whatever it is called, escorted me out quickly, gave me twenty bucks for gas home and told me to get on with my life.

It was disgusting, actually. Reminded me, later on, of the attorneys who refused to help the woman molested as a child by Neil Goldschmidt after it happened.

So getting a letter with this particular firm's fancy seal on it made me feel slithery and slimy just to touch it.

I'd tried the regular means of justice--the cops, both in Portland and here, and got nowhere. The Portland cops told me my beating "wasn't a police matter". The Corvallis cops took the report then failed to send it to Portland, where the crime occurred, despite my repeated phone calls asking that be done. If they ever did send it, it was after the Portland cops had told me AGAIN they weren't interested in taking a report.

This had been devastating. My neck had been ruptured. I'd been then released into a snow and ice storm of that year, just before Christmas, without shoes, coat or transportation. It had been 12 degrees out. Really nice hospital (being sarcastic).

I realized my societal position well when I was declared ineligible for basic justice.

After the regular means of justice failed, I attempted to find an attorney. But I was also attempting to get treatment for the neck injury I had as a result of the beating at the same time, also alone. I had no support whatsoever.

I did think my brothers would help me not only get justice but treatment for a horrendous spinal cord injury. They didn't. Alone, I fought for both justice and treatment.

My body was shutting down. I had no idea what was happening to me. The pain was stupendous. I was losing limb function. I was denied pain meds. Doctors told me my symptoms, my pain, my limb dysfunction were symptoms of mental illness.

But I knew my body. I knew I was going to die if I did not get help. I was right. A neck disc had ruptured into my spinal column, which was compressed by half. I eventually would involve the governor's office and an outside doctor, who took one look at the MRI and began making rather nasty explicit phone calls up to "the hill". I had surgery in Eugene. A city bus driver dropped me off outside the hospital and I found a ride home the next day. I wore a neck brace for a month or so. I have a metal plate in my neck where the disc was sucked out of my spinal cord.

Relief was almost instant, although I had a few months of recovery. I can't work with my arms over my head or tilt my head back very long. I get pain for sometimes weeks at a time, if I do work arms overhead or tilt my head or do too much. The undo pressure on the discs above and below, created by fixating two vertebra that used to flex, is taking its toll now also, with more pain.

So a letter from an attorney who treated what I went through as nothing is not a pleasant reminder from the past. I never want to see those lawyers again in my lifetime. To me, they're pond scum. They certainly treated me like dirt.

I got no justice ever. Once a year, I write Portland Adventist a letter. I start it with a copy of their hospital's own mission statement which is in direct contrast to how they treated me. I remind them what they did to me, that I have not forgotten and never will forget, and that they have not even apologized. And then I tell them they're going to hell, which they are. If there is a hell. But Adventists believe there is one, or rather, a Lake of Fire, so they're going to get dunked in it.

I relived the trauma of that beating over and over. The nightmares would begin early to mid December and get worse right up until Christmas. I never did think much of Christmas after that. It reminds me I suppose of being so unloved that I had no one to defend or support me when I was the victim of a violent crime that will affect me physically for life and then that crime's aftermath of unkindness that almost did me in on numerous occasions also, from the sheer lonliness and agony of going through it all alone and being denied the basics other humans get.

But then I didn't go through it completely alone. I had the river cats. I lived with those wild cats along the Willamette down from Mater Engineering. They pulled me through.

They loved me. They were my family.

That's why I help the strays now, day and night, because humans wouldn't love me, not at all, not with the dignity, even, of justice or compassion, but the cats did.

How much will I inherit? I have no idea. I won't benefit. Oregon taxpayers might. I can't inherit money on SSI and HUD. Those programs will take it. My life won't improve financially one iota with my father's death, no matter how much he had in the bank when he died, which likely was not much at all. He had a house, which will be sold.

My brothers lives might improve.

I would never treat anyone as I was treated. Nor would I not defend someone I knew or supposedly loved who got treated in that manner.

I guess I help the strays because I am a stray. I know about being kicked around. I know about having a heart yearning for love and kindness and getting none. I know what it's like to be left to die and nobody gives a rip.

And so I go out to find the cats starving and left behind and desperate. I love cats. But what I do is also a symbol that what happened to me was wrong. What happens to lots of people like me is wrong and it is not ok to look away. Not from suffering strays--human or animal. And if you go to church and bypass suffering, you're a fucking hypocrit and why do you bother pretending?

My poverty, my life, the abuse I took---all a result of my father's behavior towards me as a child. I will never outlive what he did. I will never be an equal in this world with my brothers. I will never feel like an equal to most people inhabiting the town of Corvallis.

Do I love my brothers? Yeah. But, they supported a father who couldn't keep his hands off his daughter and who emotionally abused our mother every day of most of her life.

I can't ever vote Republican. Even if the Republican was a very upstanding honest progressive thinker. I can't do it because my father was a ranting Republican, who came home spewing hatred about everything, especially politics. I listened to his rants growing up nearly everyday until I wanted to vomit on him, vomit kindness all over him, because he sure needed to get his heart afire about something other than hate.

I could never vote for a Republican after being around the Republicans I've been around. I just couldn't ever do it. Never in a million years.

I could tell the stories. I won't. Not now. I'm tired. It is difficult to overcome what you're told as a child and how you are treated as a vulnerable child. If then, as I was, one is whisked into the cold isolated world of the mental health system, where one is further labeled faulty and abused more, how can I overcome this now? How can I value myself, especially when my time is spent alone, without human support? There is no pleasing most people. I can't even please myself. I'm so torn over so many things, like religion, like my value as a human being.

People demand that I should be normal and forget the past. They want me to somehow find a job, at my age, now that I no longer take the psyche drugs once forced on me or see a shrink or caseworker, and "get on with my life." Usually its strangers who demand such a thing. And usually it's men. But not always.

I live one day at a time in the company and love of my cats and of strays, grateful someone looked their way.

But should my life be flicked out, no one would even notice I was ever here.

I don't care.

What would I do, if I suddenly got a lot of money and could keep it?

I'd go to the coast for a few days and stay in a nice hotel room with a view and a hot tub and eat some good dinners and make some plans. I'd get some decent clothes. I'd buy a house, but not a huge house, big enough for me and with a bit of land, but not a lot of land, for a small feral cat sanctuary. I'd build also a fully equipped, fully staffed spay/neuter clinic and then create an invested fund or trust, so that clinic could be funded to operate far beyond my death.

And I'd go on a vacation somewhere nice and have some fun.

I do like Corvallis. It's beautiful here. Sure, it's expensive and HUD housing is virtually nonexistent. But for now, I've got this little rental house I've fixed up. I have fixed it up nice over the years, so me and my cats and the rescued strays can be comfortable.

Saturday, August 26, 2006

Jumping Kitten Cattyhopper. Posted by Picasa

The butt sniff, from one big gray tux male to one littlish gray tux bobtail female. Posted by Picasa

Bird feathers on string---beware. Cattyhopper---Two pounds. No tail. 100% kitten. Holy Terror. Posted by Picasa

Flying Catthop. Slaughterhouse Colony kitten Cattyhop chases feather toy. Posted by Picasa

Yeah Well Whatever

My neighbors are having a wedding party. Sounds like fun. Lots of hooting and hollering.

I was going to take Apache to his new home today, but I was way too tired out and ended up falling back to sleep.

I handed traps to the woman who feeds the Corvallis homeless camp cats. I have a barn home for two. She did trap one, one of the unfixed ones. The cat is beautiful--another fairly young black and white. Me and another woman have already trapped 16 cats there and relocated ten of them. This is number 17.

I wasn't able to return that old beat up from life as a stray tame Jefferson brown tabby female, whom I got spayed, let's see, hmm, Thursday I guess it was. Now, she's got a home to go to. Good for her. Off the mean streets into easy street. About time.

As for the Beazall Park already spayed female, I think she may be going back home tuesday. Seems the people across the road from the park have a spayed female similar in appearance, according to someone who knows them. But they've been on vacation.

Someone is supposed to be feeding their horse, someone else says. But a note on their gate has not produced a response about the spayed female trapped up at the Beazall County park caretakers house, as to whether it belongs over there.

So you got to wonder, if their horse caretaker is really horse caretaking. And the horse caretaker is probably supposed to be cat feeding too, which, if he or she is kind of not doing that job, that would explain her wandering the distance to the park in search of food.

Well, whatever. They'll be back Tuesday and if it's their cat, they'll come get her I hope.

So I still have, hhmmmm, let's see, seven kittens in my bathroom. The orange female is spoken for and so are two of the orange boys. That means I have two orange boys and two spayed torti kittens who still would like some homes.

So anyhow, tomorrow, it's goodbye Apache. I'll miss him. The last of the Boondoggies.

Two orange boys are leaving Monday and so is the old gal brown tabby and so is the feral black and white, just trapped behind Carmike.

Friday, August 25, 2006


Gatewatchers. The woman who lives at the house above the fence is very kind. I stopped and asked if I could take a photo of the dogs. Posted by Picasa

Lebanon Whitie.  Posted by Picasa

House of Orange Female Kitten

Photo is of House of Orange female kitten, spayed yesterday and already spoken for. In fact the other two orange females were already adopted out and the third, this one, is spoken for.

I still have the four orange boys from House of Orange and the two torti kittens, both now spayed. The boys are getting neutered Monday.

Today I returned cats fixed yesterday. I took the female kitten back to Lebanon, then dropped off the Slaughterhouse female who was spayed yesterday at her colony. Then I swung by Knox Butte and released the female from there, who had been pregnant and now is spayed.

I didn't get to Jefferson, to drop off that old gal. I'm glad. I want to place her. She's old, really old and very tame. Living as a stray has taken it's toll on this sweetheart of a cat, too, as has having way too many litters over her life.

The freeway was clogged northbound due to some shootout. I was going to go Scravel Hill anyhow, but I was late. I needed to get the two orange females to their new home. The lady who adopted them lives outside of Eugene and we were meeting up to do the exchange.

So I have the old Jefferson gal housed here and hope to find her somewhere to go other than living as a stray.

Apache might have a home to go to in Eugene, although I need to check them out a bit. Three roommates. They have one cat, Titus, and say he needs a playmate. Sound like nice guys.

And someone called maybe interested in Gracie, which would be wonderful for her. I have no doubt these orange kittens will be adopted like wildfire, since they're gorgeous, and hopefully the two torti kittens will be also.

And if Apache gets a home, that will leave me Cattyhop, the little gray tux manx kitten from the Slaughterhouse colony. Posted by Picasa

Thursday, August 24, 2006

House of Orange boys. Posted by Picasa

Where's Yo Kitty? Do you live near Beazell Co. Park? If so, is this cat yours?

Beazall Park female trapped two days ago, when trapping for the mom of the one kitten I did trap and two missing in action kittens.

Thing is, however, she turned out to be already spayed. And tame! She's in good shape, too, and has an attitude, like "how dare you treat me this way". It's the attitude of a housepet.

I can't get the caretakers of the park to go door to door along Kings Valley Highway. So, I went online to reverse address look up Kings Valley phone numbers and chose one at randem to call.

Man, must have been fate. I found myself on the phone with a cat person!

She has several cats who look like this gal and one she isn't seeing as she talks to me. She'll be calling back, even if it isn't her cat. She does not have internet so I can't send her a photo. She's agreed to call some neighbors. Posted by Picasa

Two of the four orange male kittens I trapped last night at the House of Orange in Monroe. Five of the six kittens I did trap were orange, but one was an orange female. I tried, unsuccessfully, to talk Companion into also doing the four boys. I already had reservations for four females. So, one house of Orange female orange kitten is being fixed along with two torti kittens, from same location. The fourth female kitten is all black, from Lebanon. A black House of Orange male is being fixed in Jefferson, plus another orange female from there and a pregnant torti. The four boys, along with two younger kittens, too little to be fixed, both orange, will have to wait. Posted by Picasa

Cats Getting Fixed (hopefully) Today, Thursday. Lots More Orange from House of Orange

1 down town Jefferson stray. (I left a trap for the young boys who had already trapped two strays there, a preggie and a male, and they trapped another tabby, probable male. Total fixed in that hood now: ten)

1 feral female from off Knox Butte Road. (the mother of the three kittens I got fixed a couple weeks ago, now in trap and will be spayed today, finishing that area. Total--five cats fixed from there.)

1 Slaughterhouse colony feral. (I left a trap set at the Slaughterhouse colony when picking up a Lebanon kitten who will be fixed today and caught another unfixed adult there, bringing the total trapped there to ten).

Two torti kittens and five orange male kittens from House of orange, Monroe: I went down there late last night, after a very long day, returning the three adult males and adult female from there fixed yesterday. She had contained the black male. I then trapped the two remaining adult females, one of whom is pregnant. One is a torti and one is orange.

There were allegedly two kittens in the garage. I actually trapped six kittens, five of them orange males and one torti. They are ten weeks old and I am hoping Companion will fix all five boys. I had appointments for four females. I have three females---two torti's from House of Orange, and Elizabeth, a black female kitten rescued in Albany being fostered in Lebanon. Total House of Orange cats trapped so far in last two days and hopefully all but two small kittens will be fixed by today: 16. Everyone will be done there but one roaming male.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Spider-bitten, tube-burned left Arm

My beat up arm. Spider bite or wasp sting above and tube burn at elbow level. I'd been swarmed by yellow jackets and wasps at the Monroe House of Orange colony, mainly because, it's bee aggression time of year and because I often am saturated or otherwise smeared with cat trap bait that bees lust after.

But I believe it was a small spider that caused my arm to sting, even inside it, like sharp painful pricks, then swell.

I pasted the area over last night with baking soda. The initial bite or sting looked like red pit at the bite or sting, surrounded by a red raised circular area. That red inflamed area quickly widened.

Today, the inflammation is less, but the red inflamed area, although less inflamed, is bordered in darker red, even blue. Strange.  Posted by Picasa